


Moominland in the Mirror

by clefairytea



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: And a ship none of you will expect., Body Swap, Gen, Heteronormativity, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Mutual Pining, amatonormativity, compulsory heterosexuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-07-23 03:35:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 52,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20001673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clefairytea/pseuds/clefairytea
Summary: “Uh,” Moomintroll said, and then because he didn’t even know where to begin, decided to keep his question simple.  “What is happening?”They both stared at him as though he was completely stupid.“Isn’t it obvious enough?” Snorkmaiden asked.“Oh, my Moomintroll,” Snufkin said, and Moomintroll had no idea how to deal with hearing Snufkin saythat. “You can be slow sometimes.”Snorkmaiden flickered a few more colours. Snufkin didn’t let go of his paws. Moomintroll stared at them both, still utterly at a loss.Little My threw a handful of raspberry crumble at his head.“They’ve swapped bodies, you great useless marshmallow.”--Snorkmaiden and Snufkin swap bodies. It raises questions nobody is ready to answer.





	1. In which Moomintroll makes what he asserts is a very innocuous mistake, meets an odd stranger, and it has consequences for everyone.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back and I've brought another long-fic with me. No I will not write for a fandom that makes any sense to write for.
> 
> This mostly follows Moominvalley canon, while lending a little from the books! So it uses the Moominvalley characerisation and timeline (Little My only meeting everyone recently, Snufkin not knowing who his parents are, etc).
> 
> Also, we're chugging our Respect Women juice here, and giving Snorkmaiden interiority and a character arc.
> 
> No specific trigger warnings, but general trigger warnings for around-about discussions of heteronormativity and homophobia, with some heteronormative behaviour.
> 
>  **27/08/2019** : Please look at [this gorgeous piece of fanart](https://medibang.com/picture/b21908270605392730002991394/) for the fic! I could stare at it _all day_.  
>  **07/09/2019** : I am an extremly blessed Clefairy, please check out this other [adorable fanart](https://milky-red.tumblr.com/post/187519081998/some-fanart-for-clefairyteas-fanfics-moominland) by milky-red!! Check out her analysis and writing too while you're there, it's all fantastic. (Note: first two pieces are for this fic. No babies here, lads.)

It had been a lovely summer’s day, in Moomintroll’s expert opinion. Snufkin had been back in Moominvalley for a comfortable few weeks, pitching his tent in the usual spot by the river. The sun had been bright and warm all day, with just the right amount of breeze to ruffle one’s fur and cool one’s body. All of them – Moomintroll, Snufkin and Snorkmaiden, Little My and Sniff – had spent the full day exploring the woods, playing hide-and-seek in the trees (although Moomintroll couldn’t help but think they were – with the exception of Sniff – getting a little big for such games), and foraging for wild raspberries. Moomintroll had picked a lilac and Snorkmaiden had put it behind her ear.

After that, they sat together, talking about the ways they wanted to enjoy the summer. Snorkmaiden brushed her hair, Moomintroll made a wreath of acacia for Snufkin’s hat (although he didn’t _say_ that was what it was for – Snufkin would rather leave if he did), and Little My terrorised Sniff in a relatively friendly manner.

It was almost exactly like the long summer days they spent together as children, with the addition of Little My, of course.

Almost, that is, until –

“My love, shouldn’t we spend a little time just the two of us?” Snorkmaiden asked, taking his arm and looking at him, eyes full of hope.

Oh dear. It seemed like they couldn’t spend any time together lately without Snorkmaiden wanting to inject some romance into the situation. It had started to be a source of dread, especially since he seemed to so rarely get it right. Even when she liked it, it all felt a little awkward, like Moomintroll didn’t know what he was doing.

Still, there were certain ways a gentleman needed to act around a lady, especially a pretty one like Snorkmaiden. He knew from books and Pappa’s stories, and he simply needed a little more practice for it to feel more natural.

“Of course, my darling,” he replied, and searched his brain for all the romantic things they could do just the two of them. “Shall we walk?”

Walks were romantic, he supposed.

Little My, Snufkin, and Sniff were too busy arguing over whether a toadstool is poisonous to notice them slipping off. Moomin couldn’t help but be a little sore over it – he really wanted to see whether Sniff would try eating it, and whether Little My’s knowledge of poisons would win out over Snufkin’s knowledge of foraging.

“Oh, aren’t the woods just beautiful this time of year, Moomin?” Snorkmaiden said, squeezing his paw.

Moomintroll personally thought Snufkin was right. If he said the toadstools were safe, they probably were. After all, Snufkin had spent most of his childhood surviving alone in the wild, and had travelled to many incredible places down south, living off the local land. It was probably a very exciting way to live, and incredibly impressive he managed it so easily. Moomintroll wondered if he would do well, living like that. He had, after all, managed to spend time awake over winter (admittedly with Too-Ticky and his Ancestor’s help), and he was getting bigger and more resourceful.

“You know. I’ve always thought it would be rather lovely to live in the woods.”

Perhaps he could ask Snufkin to show him how to build a real fire and a lean-to. Just basic survival skills, that sort of thing. Of course, he could ask Pappa, but lately he wasn’t quite sure if Pappa was as skilled with adventuring as he acted. No, no, the best thing to do would be to ask Snufkin.

“Little My said you built a house winter before last! For the Mymble and her many children. Do you think you’d be able to build us something like that, one day, my love?”

Perhaps Snufkin would let Moomintroll accompany him on an adventure. Oh, of course, he needed his space, yes, yes, Moomintroll understood and appreciated that very well, but perhaps just a short adventure. Just so Moomintroll could get that experience of living in the wild. And it would be fun to spend that sort of time with Snufkin, it felt like there was rarely a moment just the two of them lately...

“Moomintroll, if you were to build us a little house, do you think we could have it in the woods?”

Perhaps Snufkin would be so impressed with Moomintroll’s natural adventurous spirit, he wouldn’t even feel so inclined to be alone during his winter travels!

“I think I’d rather like to paint it white and pink. What do you think, Moomintroll?”

Perhaps instead of leaving behind just a letter, Snufkin would ask him – well, no, not ask, that was too direct, perhaps he would mention how Moomintroll struggled to sleep during the winter these days, and that being the case, maybe he would be better off joining him down south –

Or, well, perhaps at least he could come to one place with him.

“Moomintroll? Can you imagine us living like that?”

Oh, that would be terribly exciting, but how could he give Snufkin his space and adventure with him as much as he wanted to? Perhaps if they lived together the rest of the year, winter wouldn’t feel quite so harsh…

“Moomintroll! I said, can you see the two of us living together one day?”

“Of course, Snufkin.”

Snorkmaiden released his paw, staring at him. Moomintroll was suddenly brought right back down to earth, weighed down by the knowledge that he was in an _incredible_ amount of trouble.

“ _Really_?” Snorkmaiden snapped. “This _again_?”

“Snorkmaiden, Snorkmaiden, of course, Snorkmaiden!” Moomintroll shouted, attempting to repair the ship-sinking damage as best he could. “Of course it’s you, my darling, my love, of course! Haha, what did I even say? What a silly slip of the tongue! Both start with similar sounds, you see, dearest, lovely, wow you look very pretty today, didn’t I say?”

Snorkmaiden didn’t even look angry, just disappointed. It is somehow so much worse, it’s outright terrible, and the guilt is enough to turn Moomintroll’s stomach to stone.

“Urgh! It was a slip of the tongue the _first_ time, but –!” Snorkmaiden said. Moomintroll tried to take her paw back, but she backed away, tail lashing and fur beginning to turn wine red around the tips of her ears and snout. Oh dear, oh dear. That was bad. Snorkmaiden hadn’t accidentally changed colour in _years_.

“Darling, I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. “I’m sure I’ve never done that before.”

“Five times.”

“Well –“

“This _season_.”

“O -oh, well, perhaps…perhaps I’m becoming ill. Developing a stutter! I shall ask Mamma and –“

Snorkmaiden huffed, and with as much force as she could muster, seized the flower from behind her ear and hurled it into Moomintroll’s face.

“I’m going _home_!” she said, shouting the last, and then turned on her heel.

“Snorkmaiden, wait!” he cried, but there was no use chasing after Snorkmaiden while she was storming off. Moomintroll knew this through hard-earned experience. He sighed, collapsing to the grass with a moan, resting his arm across his eyes.

Oh woe, oh misery, how difficult it was to be a young Moomin in love! Men and women were simply so different, how could anyone expect to navigate the perilous waters of love! How wonderful the tragedy of it all! How – uh – tragically romantic and…and…

And…so on…and…so forth.

…

Moomintroll found he didn’t enjoy his attempt at melodrama anywhere near as much as he was hoping. He didn’t feel like a Byronic hero who was simply too tortured and complicated to understand the whims of women. Instead he just felt bad in the regular sort of way, which was nowhere near as fun.

He sat up. He hoped that Snorkmaiden at least enjoyed the argument.

“Hahahahahaha! Wow! That was a _dee-sas-teeeerrrr_!” a strange voice crowed from above.

Moomintroll looked up.

“I mean, really, what was that about?” a strange creature said, lounging on a branch above him. She looked like a fat pink squirrel only with long clear wings like a dragonfly’s. She wore a smock patterned with little flowers, with a large pocket on the stomach, and her accent sounded a little like Too-Ticky’s.

“It’s very rude to eavesdrop, you know,” Moomintroll said sharply.

“Please, it’s not eavesdropping if the entire woods could hear you,” the creature replied, taking to the air with a buzz of her wings. She zipped a little closer to Moomintroll, hovering above his head. “You really are doing the poor girl a disservice, you know. Not to mention what you’re doing to yourself.”

“This is _really_ none of your business, you – who even are you?”

“Oh, just a passer-by,” the creature said with a wave of her paw. “I travel around and enjoy stories from all sorts of creatures. This valley seems to have a great deal of interesting ones. This one is particularly juicy, young Moomintroll, although you are going round and round in circles in it.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you are talking about,” he said, getting quite frustrated. Was the creature following them around and just listening in on their personal lives? What a rude little animal!

“C’mon, you can’t be totally clueless. You gotta know. At least on some level,” the Passer-by replied, lying on her back in mid-air, paws behind her head as she circled lazily above him.

“I really don’t!” he said, watching her go round and round. “Snorkmaiden and I just…have tiffs now and then, that’s all.”

She tutted.

“Poor Snorkmaiden. You are really being awful by her. And poor Snufkin, as well!”

“W-wait? What?” Moomintroll snapped, something cold coming over him. “What’s Snufkin got do with any of this?”

“It’s awful to him too! You just swapping them back and forth like that, as though they’re just interchangeable!”

“Now that’s quite enough! I, of course, do not think they are interchangeable,” Moomintroll huffed. “I value them both greatly.”

“Hm, hm, hm, doesn’t seem like it from where I’m floating. Seems to me you’re being rotten to _both_ of them,” the Passer-by said, and floating back up to her branch, sitting with one leg crossed over the other, tapping her chin. “You know what? I’ve decided. Something needs to be done.”

The Passer-by dug in her smock and pulled out a black object the shape of a fountain pen. Moomintroll stood, suddenly feeling quite anxious. Whatever that was, he didn’t like the look of it at all.

“Now…what would be a good way to mess with you?” the Passer-by said, expression thoughtful but voice greatly delighted.

“Mess with me?”

“Ah!” the Passer-by said, and began to write in the air in front of her with the pen, ink trailing from the tip, forming funny symbols and letters Moomintroll couldn’t read. Moomintroll’s eyes widened. It wasn’t often one saw someone using magic in the valley, but Moomintroll knew it when he saw it.

“Now, you stop whatever that is! Please, no spells, no curses, I’ll listen to whatever it is you have to say, just don’t –“ Moomintroll began, and was then squirted in the face. He wiped at his face, it came way black – ink.

The Passer-by burst into hysterical laughter, pocketing her pen.

“Hahaha! That should do it! Have fun, little Moomintroll! I’m sure _I_ will!” she said, and then zoomed up into the leaves, vanishing with a swish of her curly tail.

Moomintroll rubbed his eyes, and then looked at the black ink stains all over his paws. His poor lovely fur! This would be a nightmare to clean out – as if the day hadn’t been dreadful enough.

So Moomintroll did what he always did when in distress. He ran home to his mother.

****

“Oh dear, it really is quite the stain” Moominmamma said mildly. “You didn’t run into a squid in the woods, did you?”

“No,” Moomintroll said, as Moominmamma gently dabbed at his stained fur with a damp cloth. “It was some kind of…winged creature. She was even ruder than Little My!”

Moominmamma chuckled.

“Now I’m not sure I believe that’s possible,” she said. “Don’t you worry. My grandmother’s book has an excellent little soap for washing fur. I’ll whip it up and you can go have a nice hot bath and forget all about it.”

“Hmph…” Moomintroll said, wondering if he should talk to his mother about _what_ the Passer-by said that had hurt him so. It seemed like the sort of thing she’d be a sympathetic ear to, and when he was younger he wouldn’t have hesitated for a second.

Now, though, there was something about this particular topic that made him feel rather embarrassed and ashamed. Every time he tried to talk about it, it got all jammed in his throat, like a rough bundle of pine-needles.

He wanted to talk to Mamma about it. He should talk to Mamma about it. He’d been trying, really, but…

Mamma watched him for a second, but Moomintroll found the right words just wouldn’t come. For a second, Moomintroll swore he saw some disappointment flicker across her face, but it was gone as soon as he saw it.

She pressed a kiss to his forehead, stroking his fur with a paw.

“I love you a great deal, dear,” she said, in a tone that Moomintroll didn’t know how to make sense of. “I made a raspberry crumble with what you all brought back today. After your bath, I will warm it up with some fresh cream.”

Moomintroll perked up – Mamma’s fruit crumbles were some of her best desserts.

“I’ll go run the bath now!” he said and rushed up the stairs, the day’s events already quickly forgotten.

Between the hot cocoa, the raspberry crumble, and Sniff’s story of the toadstool he’d safely survived eating, Moomintroll quickly forgot about his argument with Snorkmaiden, as well as tricky little passer-by.

Unknown to him, however, tricky happenings were already afoot.

****

Snorkmaiden woke up in a tent.

This was unusual, as she was certain she had walked back to Snork’s workshop to sleep in her room there. Yet here she was, in a sleeping mat, staring up at the green canvas of a tent.

She sat up and found a large dragonfly sitting on her lap.

Normally, this would be cause enough to scream. At that moment, however, there was nobody around to witness her adorably girlish terror and come rushing into her rescue, so she didn’t see the point. Too sleepy for the fuss, she flicked the dragonfly away.

…With little pink fingers.

Snorkmaiden woke up fully then, looking about her – at the dim lantern, the green smock folded in a rough pile at the foot of the sleeping mat, the mouth-organ and pointed hat laid atop it. She pawed at herself, finding herself much smaller and less furry than before, and her paws then went her head. Instead of her soft, lovely fringe, she found crunchy brown hair that felt like it hadn’t been conditioned in _years_.

This time, Snorkmaiden really did scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, confession: This is actually complete already! It clocks in at about 45k, 11 chapters long. I will be posting a chapter every few days or so, taking the time to polish them up a bit. 
> 
> Just for fun, here's the chapter list! Pretend this is at the front of the middle grade novel you just picked up and there's cute illustrations around them.
> 
> 1\. In which Moomintroll makes what he asserts is a very innocuous mistake, meets an odd stranger, and it has consequences for everyone.  
> 2\. In which mysteries and arguments alike go unsolved, there is a rather tense picnic, and a great deal of insomnia.  
> 3\. In which Pappa tells a story, young people are impertinent, wiser sleeping arrangements are made, and Moomintroll hatches a plot.  
> 4\. In which Moomintroll attempts to revive an old past-time, there is a fierce competition, and finally an unpleasant discovery.  
> 5\. In which creatures are set free, Mrs Fillyjonk’s romantic life is of great interest, and there is a frank discussion of feelings.  
> 6\. In which there are hang-overs and literary debates, Moomintroll finally listens to some advice, and decisions are made.  
> 7\. In which marriage is not always easy and nor is anything else.  
> 8\. In which Mamma tells a story.  
> 9\. In which Pappa writes poetry, Snufkin consults his cards, and everyone thinks a great deal about what they want.  
> 10\. In which there are dragonflies.  
> 11\. In which we say farewell.


	2. In which mysteries and arguments alike go unsolved, there is a rather tense picnic, and a great deal of insomnia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments so far! I really appreciate all of them, and I hope you enjoy the next chapter too.

Moomintroll resolved that he must apologise to Snorkmaiden that morning. Their arguments, after all, were always resolved by the next day. As it always went, Moomintroll would apologise sincerely for being a boor, and Snorkmaiden would giggle, call him _her Moomintroll_ , and all would be forgotten. After all, great romantic couples always fought and argued and disagreed. Men were from Mars and women were from Venus, and all that. They would hardly be a couple if they actually _got along_ most of the time.

Cheered by this thought, Moomintroll departed Moominhouse after a leisurely breakfast with Mamma and Pappa. Little My had already left the house to go annoy someone else, which put him in an even better mood.

On bright days like this, he would reliably find Snorkmaiden picking flowers down by the river. He could pop in to see Snufkin on the way, have a cup of morning coffee and a spot of conversation, and then he could pick whatever flowers Snufkin was growing near his tent and present them to her as gallantly as possible. She would be delighted by his thoughtfulness, of course.

Yes, yes, there was no need for him to fret like he had yesterday. Soon everything would be back to how it had always been, and it would continue that way for the rest of the glorious summer.

He was almost across the bridge to Snufkin’s tent when he heard a terrible scream.

It sounded like Snorkmaiden!

What luck!

If Moomintroll bravely rescued her from some kind of peril, she would surely forgive him every little slight!

“I’m coming, darling!” he cried, as boldly as he could, and began to run.

Of course, that only lasted a few minutes, before he needed to stop and catch his breath, but, well, it was the thought that counted.

He emerged from the bushes to where Snufkin’s tent was pitched this year and saw a scene he didn’t know at all how to make sense of.

“What by the Groke’s teeth have you _done_?” Snorkmaiden said, standing with her hands on her hips and glowering at Snufkin. She looked…bizarre. Rather like she’d left the house and immediately rolled around in the dirt. Her fur was ruffled and dirty, and her fringe in a bigger disarray than Moomintroll had ever seen it. Moreover, her fur was sickly yellow-red, rather than its usual radiant white. Snorkmaiden usually had such good control over her colour-changing…surely this wasn’t related to Moomintroll’s silly mistakes the day previous?

“What have I done? What have _you_ done?” Snufkin said, paws over his mouth and eyes wide with horror.

If Snorkmaiden looked bizarre, Snufkin looked like another person entirely. His cloak and hat were gone, and he was down to his shirt and trousers. Moreover, his shirt and trousers were clean and pressed. His shirt was even tucked neatly in. Even his hair looked clean and tidy, brushed and styled neatly, rather than sticking up every which way, probably with a twig in it somewhere.

He looked, to put it simply, like a nice, well-brought-up young man. The type Mrs Fillyjonk would excitably try to introduce to one of her daughters.

Moomintroll found he intensely disliked it and hoped this wasn’t a permanent change.

There was a hearty chuckling, and Moomintroll turned to see Little My sitting on a log nearby, enjoying the show with the tray of left-over raspberry crumble, scooping it into her mouth with her bare paws.

“What is going on?” he asked.

“You ain’t figured it out yet?” Little My said, smirking, and then shoved another fistful of crumble into her mouth.

“What do you mean what have I done?” Snorkmaiden asked.

“You look a fright! How have you made such a mess in such a short time!?” Snufkin continued, aghast.

“I just went out to fish for breakfast, that’s all!” Snorkmaiden said, “I thought it best we not try to deal with this on an empty stomach.”

Snorkmaiden went fishing?

“And did you _wrestle the fish bare-handed_?” Snufkin said. “How could you have possibly gotten so filthy?

“Well, Snork didn’t have a pole, so I had to improvise. I only waded into the shallows. There's no reason to fret,” Snorkmaiden said coolly. Although she sounded as though this didn’t bother her at all, her fur was still the same ugly, angry colour.

“Oh, urgh, that’s – Moomintroll?” Snufkin said, and then turned to look at him. Snorkmaiden looked over as well, turning bright gold almost immediately upon setting eyes on him.

“Moomintroll,” she said calmly, lifting her paw for a second.

“Um –“

“Oh thank _goodness_ you’re here, darling!” Snufkin said, rushing over to hug Moomintroll, who was now fairly certain that the raspberries were deadly and he was in some kind of feverish delusion before death.

“Something terrible has happened,” Snufkin continued, as though Moomintroll wasn’t completely frozen in place and mentally short-circuiting. He shot a glower at Snorkmaiden. “ _Someone_ has made just a terrible mess of my hair.”

Behind him, Moomintroll heard Little My dissolve into hysterical laughter.

“A mess can be cleaned easily enough,” Snorkmaiden said calmly, and then looked over at Snufkin, fur turning melancholy blue, “It will take me, however, a very long time to return to the lovely natural state I was in.”

“Uh,” Moomintroll said, and then because he didn’t even know where to begin, decided to keep his question simple. “What is happening?”

They both stared at him, as though he were completely stupid.

“Isn’t it obvious enough?” Snorkmaiden asked.

“Oh, my Moomintroll,” Snufkin said, and Moomintroll had no idea how to deal with hearing _that_ in Snufkin’s voice. “You _can_ be slow sometimes.”

Moomintroll stared at them both, still utterly at a loss. Snorkmaiden flickered a few more colours, and Snufkin held his paws with great meaning, although _what_ meaning he hadn’t a clue.

Little My threw a handful of raspberry crumble at his head.

“They’ve swapped bodies, you great useless marshmallow.”

A bit of pastry fell past Moomintroll’s eye.

“Wh-what? How?”

“That’s what we’re hoping to figure out,” Snufkin-in-Snorkmaiden’s-body said.

“And, more importantly, how we swap back,” Snorkmaiden-in-Snufkin’s-body added.

“Well,” Moomintroll said, trying to sound as though this were all something he knew exactly how to deal with and not something that terrified him to the very depth of his being, for reasons he didn’t quite understand,. “I think there’s only one solution.”

“Let me guess,” Little My said, “we should run to Mamma and check batty old Granny’s book again.”

****

Moomintroll had composed a careful explanation of the situation in his head on the walk back to Moominhouse. It was all very befuddling, so he would explain it clearly to Mamma to make it easy for her to understand to help.

“Mamma,” he said, upon arriving back with Snufkin and Snorkmaiden (Little My riding on the brim of Snufkin-in-Snorkmaiden’s body’s hat). “We need some help.”

Moominmamma turned and, immediately upon laying eyes on Snufkin and Snorkmaiden, said:

“Oh, dear, you two have gotten muddled up completely.”

In Moomintroll’s defence, Snufkin had put on his hat before they walked back (which looked very strange on Snorkmaiden’s head). Of course, that made things a bit easier to make sense of. It was completely reasonable he didn't work out what was happening right away, he wasn't _psychic._

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Snufkin-in-Snorkmaiden’s-body said evenly, fur flickering many different colours.

“Oh, please calm down, Snufkin,” Snorkmaiden-in-Snufkin’s-body said. “You're giving me a headache. You’re like a Snorkling who hasn’t gotten control of his fur yet.”

“I’m as composed as ever,” Snufkin said, turning orange.

“Ha! You sure are, buddy!” Little My said, hanging upside down from the brim of his hat. Moominmamma plucked her off it.

"Now, now, My, don't be cruel," she said, and popped her into a nearby teapot. Little My tried to protest, but Moominmamma simply put the lid on and turned back towards them, wiping her hands on her apron. "Why don’t you all sit down and we’ll see what Granny’s recipe book says.”

They all sat as Moominmamma climbed up a stepladder to retrieve Granny’s book. Snufkin was holding his fur that odd shade of orange, although it looked like he were tensing up a great deal to do it. Snorkmaiden kept chewing on her nails and rubbing her fingers together. Neither of them looked at each other. As always when the two of them were in the same room, Moomintroll felt nervous and tense, as though something terrible were about to happen. Yet he supposed something terrible _had_ happened, and now he didn’t know what to do about it.

As though she were in no hurry at all, Moominmamma laid the book on the kitchen table and began flicking through it.

“Ah, here we are. ‘Body swapping’,” she said, smoothing out the pages with her paws. “Let’s see. So, this can happen a number of different ways. How to resolve it is always related to how it happens. Let’s go through the options one by one.”

They both nodded, glad to be in Moominmamma’s capable paws.

“Alright. Did the two of you make a wish? Perhaps to experience life as another, or that the other would understand your feelings?”

The both shook their heads.

“Alright then. Were you both in an accident together recently?”

“Not at all,” Snufkin said.

“A lightning storm?”

They shook their heads.

“Did you exchange magical amulets?”

“Snufkin, getting _me_ jewellery? Pfft!”

“Fortune cookies?”

“No, although I did collect a nice recipe last time I went south.”

“Is one of you in the future and one of you about to be killed in a freak comet strike?”

“That’s specific!” Snorkmaiden said.

“I’m only reading out options in the book, dear,” Moominmamma said. “Hm. What about…did the two of you anger a wizard recently?”

“Not that I can think of…” Snufkin said, colour in his fur fading.

“I can’t think of a single thing the two of us did that would result in this,” Snorkmaiden said, “We hardly even spend time together, these days…”

They exchanged an awkward glance and then looked away, both looking a bit more down than before.

“Well,” Moomintroll said, clearing his throat. When trying to say something important, Pappa always told him it was important to clear one’s throat. Not only did it give one more time to think of this important thing to say, it made the moment sound more…momentous.

They all stared at him.

He cleared his throat again. A little more time, perhaps.

“Even if we don’t know _why_ this happened…”

Well – he could probably think of…

No.

No, he decided, he absolutely had no idea.

He cleared his throat.

“Darling,” Snorkmaiden said, and oh, Moomintroll wished she’d stop saying pet-names with Snufkin’s voice, it made it very hard to think. “Do you need a cough drop?”

“No, no! I just…ahem. Even if we don’t know why this happened, let’s try some of the cures all the same.”

“Hm…well, none of these are particularly _cures_ ,” Moominmamma said, “The basic idea seems to be that to get back to normal, you need to resolve whatever problem the two of you were having in the first place.”

“We weren’t having one,” Snufkin said quickly. Moominmamma looked at him, gaze measured and careful, and all three of them fidgeted. Moomintroll heard muffled laughter from inside the teapot.

“Hm…didn’t you just say the two of you aren’t spending any time together lately?” Moominmamma began gently, giving her son a careful glance that made him feel rather like he were missing something. “Perhaps that’s the root of it.”

“So, you just want us to…hang out?” Snorkmaiden said, sounding confused. Mamma giggled, covering her mouth with her paws. Moomintroll saw why – the phrase ‘hang out’ did not sit very naturally in Snufkin’s mouth at all.

“Yes, I believe that may be a good place to start. How about I put together a picnic, and you can go have lunch together?”

Moomintroll did not like this plan one bit. He didn’t know why, Snufkin and Snorkmaiden being in the same room as him was stressful, but the idea of them spending time together _without_ him was just terrifying.

“That’s a great idea!” he said, far too loudly. “I’ll go grab the jam from the cellar, Mamma!”

He could feel Mamma staring at the back of his head as he went, and he had the uncomfortable sense she’d figured something out that he hadn’t.

****

“Well, this is nice, isn’t it? Just us, out to enjoy some delicious tea and jam and cakes, on a beautiful summer’s day,” Moomintroll said, because somebody needed to say something. “I can’t remember the last time we spent time together, can you?”

“Yes,” Snorkmaiden said, glowering at him, “Yesterday.”

Moomintroll chuckled, the back of his neck beginning to sweat.

“Feels like _such_ a long time ago!” he said, taking the plates out of the basket. “Shortcake, Sniff?”

Sniff didn’t reply. He sat between Snorkmaiden and Snufkin, clutching his tail and glancing between them frantically.

“I still don’t get it. So now Snufkin is Snorkmaiden, and Snorkmaiden is Snufkin?” he asked.

“They haven’t become each other, Sniff. They’re just in each other’s _bodies_ ,” Moomintroll explained with a sigh, “and it’s only temporary. We’ll have it aaaall sorted out by the end of the day.”

“Alright, so Snufkin is Snorkmaiden now, and we can tell by the hat. Snorkmaiden is Snufkin and we can tell because he doesn’t smell any more.”

“Snufkin doesn’t smell –“ Moomintroll began, but Sniff wasn't listening.

“And you’re Moominmamma, now, because you’re serving tea,” he continued, nodding.

“No, I’m still Moomintroll.”

“Then who am I?”

“You’re still Sniff, Sniff!” Moomintroll snapped, and dragged a paw down his snout. “Maybe I should have invited Mr Hemulen along instead…or the Muskrat…”

He reached back into the basket to get out the cakes, when sharp teeth closed around his paw.

“Ow!”

He jerked his paw out, dragging Little My out of the basket. She released her jaws and dropped onto the basket, hands on hips.

“Or me," she said, leaning towards him. "Didn’t think to invite _me_ to try and act as a buffer, did you?”

“You’re meant to be on time-out in your teapot,” he told her furiously. Little My snorted.

“I can’t be put on time-out. I’ve got too much willpower for that,” she said, and then approached Snorkmaiden and Snufkin. “Now, do _you_ two have any theories about how you got stuck like this?”

Moomintroll seized her with both paws and shoved her back into the basket, clasping the lid shut. The basket violently rocked back and forth, and crumbs sprayed from underneath the lid. Moomintroll picked Sniff up and put him on top of lid. Sniff froze in place, curling up and clutching his tail even tighter.

“Sorry about her!” Moomintroll said merrily. “So, there’s no cake, but how about we just enjoy the sandwiches? There’s some yummy cucumber, or delicious cheese and onion! Mmm! Who wants what?”

Moomintroll realised belatedly that he was getting louder and louder with every single word. The others looked at him as though he’d gone quite mad.

“…Moomintroll, are you sure _you_ haven’t switched bodies with someone?” Sniff asked.

“Oh he’s himself, alright,” Little My said through a mouthful of wicker (she was gnawing her way out of the basket). “That’s the problem.”

“Will you please go annoy somebody else!” Moomintroll snapped, trying to smack her head. Little My popped back in the basket and popped out of the other side, grinning.

“Why would I, when it’s so easy to do it to you?” she said.

Snufkin stood up, abruptly. His fur had turned greenish-grey, ears pressing back against his head.

“I think I shall return to my tent,” he said, very politely, staring off into the distance. “Thank you for the tea.”

“Oh no you don’t, Mister!” Snorkmaiden said, grabbing him. “You are _not_ sleeping out in the filth while you're using _my_ body keeping my body! My poor fur will never be in a worse state!”

“Oh come now,” Snufkin said, backing away and pulling himself out of Snorkmaiden’s grip. “Surely you don’t want to sleep there instead?”

“Of course I don’t,” Snorkmaiden said, and then looked thoughtful. “Ah, although, I can’t really go back to Snork’s workshop like this…”

“Will he be upset?” Moomintroll asked. Snorkmaiden’s older brother caused him a great deal of anxiety. Everyone knew that older brothers and fathers were meant to be _very_ protective of the girls in their family. They were supposed to do things corner the boys who knew them and say things like ‘Don’t you dare hurt her’, and then turn up with shovels and shotguns at any imagined slight.

Moomintroll supposed he was meant to do the same if someone were to take interest in Little My. He hoped that wouldn’t happen – he was becoming a better actor lately, but he wasn’t _that_ good.

Of course, the Snork had never _done_ anything like that. Not remotely. But that kind of thing was in every romance story he knew, so surely it must happen.

“Oh, no, but he will want to _study_ me,” Snorkmaiden said, shuddering. “Which will be just as bad. No, I think we should both stay in Moominhouse for now.”

Snufkin frowned.

“I’d rather not sleep in a bed, if it can be helped.”

“Well, maybe it will do you some good!” Snorkmaiden said, and then pressed her paws into her back, stretching. “Honestly, Snufkin, do you feel so dreadful all the time? I’m aching, restless, I’ve got no patience for anything, and my fingers and mouth feel like they’re missing some – why are you laughing?”

“Oh dear,” Snufkin said, laughing. “Oh dear, I didn’t quite think of this.”

“What is it?” Snorkmaiden said. Snufkin smirked at her.

“Well…you know how I stopped smoking, recently?” he said.

“…You’ve _got_ to be joking.”

“I’m afraid I’m not,” he said, not hiding his mirth particularly well at all. “It’s terrible, isn’t it?”

Snorkmaiden glowered at him and then turned her nose up.

“Well, that _aside_ , I’m not sleeping in a tent, and you aren’t ruining my lovely fur any further,” Snorkmaiden said, folding her arms. “We will both stay in Moominhouse, and that is final.”

“I’m sure that will be fine!” Moomintroll said hastily. “We can set up the spare beds. Snufkin, I know you hate to sleep indoors, but it is only for a little while, and it wouldn’t be fair on Snorkmaiden otherwise.”

“I suppose it can’t be helped,” Snufkin said, tugging on his hat. “Regardless, I need some time to myself right now.”

“Be back in Moominhouse for a _bath_ and bed or I shall be most upset with you,” Snorkmaiden said sternly.

“Well, we can’t have that,” he said, a touch more drily than Moomintroll thought necessary. With that, and not a glance back at Moomintroll himself, Snufkin stalked off.

“He can be _such_ a drama queen,” Snorkmaiden huffed, “Honestly, what is so dreadful about sleeping inside and being clean?”

“Snufkin just doesn’t like being caged in,” Moomintroll said quickly. “He must feel dreadfully trapped right now.”

Snorkmaiden gave Moomintroll a wilting look that was somehow even worse on Snufkin’s face, and he deflated.

“Of course you’d take his side,” she said, rather nastily, and shoved her half-eaten sandwich at Sniff. “I think I’m going to walk alone for a while too.”

“Oh, Snorkmaiden, wait –“

“Not now, Moomintroll,” she said, and then attempted to impersonate Snufkin’s accent. “I need my space now and then, after all.”

She snorted, muttered something like ' _Honestly_ ', and then stormed off in the opposite direction to Snufkin.

“Thanks for the sandwich!” Sniff called, waving it above his head, before sitting back down to take a bite. “They’re both acting very strange today, Moomintroll.”

Moomintroll laid on his back and groaned, burying his face in his paws.

****

Snufkin could no longer play his mouth-organ.

That was, perhaps, the thing that upset him the most about this long strange awful day. He still knew the notes, the technical details of how to hold it, where to blow and where to place his fingers, but he couldn’t get Snorkmaiden’s cumbersome paws or large snout to obey him properly. His music that sounded wet and clumsy, like a little child learning to play for the first time.

He thought it were bad enough he couldn’t fit into his lovely old cloak, but not being able to play on his mouth-organ was just awful. After discovering that, he needed to sit for a long time, breathing in the smell of the campfire and listening to the rush of the river, just to calm down.

His backpack was too small, now, to fit comfortably on his back, so he had to carry it over one shoulder, rather like Moominmamma’s purse. At the very least, he thought, his hat could still be worn, even if Snorkmaiden would glower at him and mutter darkly about hat hair.

A strange thing – to be glared at and muttered at by oneself. Snufkin had seen and experienced many an odd thing in his travels, but he believed this was the oddest that had ever happened to him.

He couldn’t think of how this had happened. As Snorkmaiden said, the two of them barely spent any time together these days. Not like they had when they were children. It was hard to believe they had been such jolly good friends, back in those days. Lately whenever the two of them were together, the atmosphere was tense and strange, as though there were some big awful weight between them that neither wanted to talk about.

Snufkin didn’t like to think too hard about what that weight was.

Perhaps some witch or wizard from afar had seen how they had let their friendship grow cold and stale and decided to punish them for it. Yet that was odd, in Snufkin’s opinion. If one was to be cursed, usually the one doing the cursing couldn’t resist the urge to prance about and make it all terribly obvious. He’d never heard of someone being cursed quietly before.

He sighed, lifting Snorkmaiden’s foot to look at the bangle sitting there – perhaps a tighter fit than it had been when she was a child.

Moomintroll had given her it. And here Snufkin was making a nuisance of himself and making things difficult for her, years on.

Oh, that was surely it, wasn’t it? It was his rotten old fault for getting attached when he shouldn’t. He was terribly foolish.

“You’re going to have to shake your tail, if you want to get back in time for supper,” said a voice.

“Good evening, Little My,” Snufkin responded calmly. Little My tutted and clambered onto the log next to Snufkin.

“Why is it, I can sneak up on every creature of the valley, aside from you?”

“Other creatures in the valley don’t listen as carefully as I do,” he replied, poking at the embers with a stick. Little My snorted.

“That’s a load of fat old tosh,” she said, swiping the stick out of his paw. “You’re good at listening to what you want to listen to, but just shove your head in the sand as bad as the rest of them when you don’t want to.”

“I just don’t get myself involved in other’s messes,” he said.

“Well _that’s_ working great for you, isn’t it?” she said, prodding him in the ear with the stick. “What’s it like, being one of these great fuzzy creatures, anyhow?”

“Clumsy, mostly,” Snufkin replied, “I don’t know how they get about like this all day.”

“Ha, well you might need to get used to it,” she said, grinning up at him. “Maybe you’ll just have to both live like this forever.”

“It’s only been a day!” Snufkin retorted, and could _feel_ the colour in his pelt shifting. Oh, how did Snorkmaiden keep this under control? It was terrible to have one’s feelings on show so obviously. He had rather thought that Snorkmaiden wore her whole heart on her sleeve, but perhaps he’d been underestimating her.

“Yes, yes, but then tomorrow will be another day. And then the next will beanother…and then another…and then another…” she said, and then took a bite out of the charred stick, “and then it’s just the three of you stuck in Moominhouse…forever.”

“Don’t talk such nonsense,” Snufkin said. “These things always have a way of working out. Things will be exactly back the way they were before long."

“Oh yeah, putting things as they were really is what's best for everyone,” Little My sneered.

Snufkin didn’t know what to say to that, so he just put out the last flickering embers of the fire. Little My watched him, as if hoping he would come up with a witty retort, but he was in no mood to banter with her.

“Well, are we going home? Or are you just going to sit out here moping all night?” she said. Snufkin sighed, standing up to bundle up anything in his campsite he didn’t want to leave out here.

“I suppose I must. Though I’d earnestly prefer to mope.”

“Nothing new there, pal.”

****

Snorkmaiden returned to Moominhouse before anyone else, locking herself away in her room so she could be angry in peace. Moomintroll returned not long after, offering an apology through the door that Snorkmaiden was not yet in the mood to accept. It wasn’t that she was still angry – she rather wasn’t. She just knew that one wasn’t supposed to forgive one’s boyfriend right away. The proper way was to wait for him do something either particularly heroic or particularly romantic. Just _talking_ wasn’t how things were done.

To her great surprise, Snufkin returned after sunset, and even consented to take a bath. Moominmamma called them down for an awkward supper, during which neither Snufkin or Snorkmaiden spoke a great deal, and Moomintroll chattered like a nervous monkey, yet failed to say a single thing of worth.

Soon, it was time to go to bed. Moominpappa decreed that, considering the situation, it was not appropriate for either Snufkin or Snorkmaiden to sleep in Moomintroll’s room. This declaration embarrassed everyone greatly, prompting even Moominmamma to mutter ‘Darling, _please_ ’. Moving past that as quickly as they could, it was decided that Snorkmaiden-in-Snufkin’s-body would sleep in her usual bed in her usual room. Snufkin-in-Snorkmaiden’s-body would take a bedroll on floor of Moominpappa’s study, as he didn’t want to share with Sniff, and Sniff didn’t want to room with “a girl”. (Sniff didn’t really understand the situation, but nobody had the time or energy to explain it.)

Snorkmaiden had to admit, she felt very strange in her old room like this. Her bed seemed much too large and squishy now, and she couldn’t get Snufkin’s stupid body to lie comfortably in it. She couldn’t even hold her tail while she slept, as she normally would.

After turning back and forth for a good few hours, Snorkmaiden gave up and got up. Snufkin’s sleep shirt was ridiculously uncomfortable – all old and scratchy – but it was far too odd to _not_ wear it, and nothing the Moomins or Snorkmaiden herself had would fit him properly.

She sat up, sighing, and grabbed a lantern from the side-table, along with her book. Perhaps she would read. That always made her feel better.

She was surprised to find the light on in the kitchen. Moominmamma was sitting with a cup of tea in her paw, leafing through her Grandmother’s recipe book. As Snorkmaiden approached, she lifted her head and smiled.

“Good evening, dear.”

“I’m still Snorkmaiden,” Snorkmaiden replied dully.

“I see that,” Moominmamma said with a smile that put a lump in Snorkmaiden’s throat. “Won’t you sit? I have a pot of Lady Grey we can share.”

It was Snorkmaiden’s favourite tea. She sat down next to Moominmamma, feeling like a little child again. Not that she had anyone like Moominmamma when she was very little. The Snork had never been one for comfort and warm tea. Snorkmaiden had always had to settle for the reflection in her hand-mirror for that sort of thing.

Moominmamma poured a cup of tea for her, sliding forward the milk-jug and platter of sugar cubes. Snorkmaiden dropped a few in – she needed something sweet (and the calories would be Snufkin’s problem, after all).

They sat in companionable silence, sipping at their tea. Snorkmaiden soon found the lump in her throat untied, even though nothing had been done or said, and suddenly she could put it into words.

“Moomintroll couldn’t tell,” she said. “Little My had to tell him.”

It was interesting, how saying something that bothered you aloud could make it sound very silly. It had been dogging her all day, but as soon as she said it aloud it didn’t hurt anywhere near as much.

Moominmamma closed her grandmother’s recipe book, resting her paws on the cover.

“My Moomintroll can be an ass, sometimes.”

Snorkmaiden spat out her tea, startled into laughter.

“Moominmamma!” 

“I’m afraid it’s true. A mother can say these things,” she said, and grinned. “Though I would tolerate few other people doing so.”

Snorkmaiden knew what she meant. As much as Moomintroll frustrated her, she couldn’t bear anyone who loved him less speaking poorly of him.

“He does care about you a great deal, darling,” Moominmamma continued. “It is just the three of you are growing up, and things can change quite a lot during that time.”

“I know that. I’m very ready for it,” she said, a bolt of irritation prompting her to sit up straight. “I am _waiting_ for Moomintroll to start being a grown-up with me, as we ought to. I already know what colour my house should be, and how many children I should have. I even know what the centrepieces should be like at our wedding. I have thought about it all very carefully.”

“I’m sure you have, dear,” Moominmamma said soothingly. “Although, my grandmother always said life would be dreadfully boring if everything went to plan.”

Snorkmaiden expected her to say something else, but she just let them settle into quiet once again. It wasn’t as comfortable as before, and Snorkmaiden found her own words echoing strangely back at her. Perhaps it was just the oddness of hearing them in Snufkin’s voice, but they didn’t feel as right as they used to.

They finished their tea, and Moominmamma gathered up the empty dishes and began washing them up as quietly as she could.

“Do try to get a little more sleep,” she said, not looking up from the washing. “If it helps, mumriks sleep flat on their backs, not curled up like snorks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snorkmaiden: I have made you presentable.  
> Snufkin: You've ruined a perfectly good vagabond is what you've done. Look at me. I'm clean.
> 
> I'm [@clefairytea](https://clefairytea.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, hit me up if you wanna talk writing or Moomin.


	3. In which Pappa tells a story, young people are impertinent, wiser sleeping arrangements are made, and Moomintroll hatches a plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one, sorry, whoops!

Snorkmaiden slept, finally, by moving off her bed and lying straight-backed on the floor. It should have been terribly uncomfortable, but it turns out Moominmamma, as always, was right – this did seem to be the way Snufkin’s body slept best.

he still awoke early, disturbed by the fall of heavy summer rain against the window pane. She swept back the curtain and gazed out – it was heavy enough to keep them in Moominhouse for the day.

Normally, Snorkmaiden didn’t mind rainy days. She would lie in her room and play with her make-up, or read her books, or just lie drinking Moominmamma’s cocoa and thinking up wonderful stories. Yet today it just seemed another way to keep them all trapped in together.

It would be frightfully difficult to be trapped in all day if she had to keep being angry at Moomintroll. With that in mind, she decided to give up on that. Yes, yes, she _should_ wait for him to make an appropriate gesture or do something manly, but it would just make the day unpleasant.

So she washed (looking down as little as possible. Mumrik anatomy was so weird - why was everything _out_ all the time? It couldn’t be hygienic), dressed (fumbling a little with how awkward Snufkin’s clothes were), and brushed her hair (still not a patch on her real hair, but the leave-in conditioner she’d used had improved things greatly). She scratched at the stray strands of fur growing on her (well, Snufkin’s) nose, but decided she didn’t understand shaving well enough to attempt it. After making Snufkin as presentable as she was capable, she left her room.

The Moomin family were already in the kitchen – Moominmamma preparing breakfast, Moomintroll washing the dishes from the previous night, and Moominpappa reading the paper.

“Good morning, dear,” Moominmamma greeted her, as though the previous night hadn’t happened at all. Moomintroll glanced over at her and gave a sheepish little wave, dish suds all over his paws. She smiled.

“Good morning,” she said. It was time to show Moomintroll he was forgiven. She crossed the room and took hold of his arm, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Good morning, darling –“

 _CRASH_.

Moomintroll launched a plate directly into the air, where it shattered against the ceiling. His face had went scarlet from the tips of his ears to the end of his snout.

Oh.

Yes.

Of course. She looked and sounded like _Snufkin_ right now.

She released his arm and stepped away. For a second, Moomintroll just stood there frozen, hand on his forearm, before apparently managing to plug his brain back in again.

“I – I’ll sweep this up, Mamma!” he said. “Whoops, haha, butterfingers!”

“How about you sit down and wait for breakfast, dear?” Moominmamma said to Snorkmaiden quietly, squeezing her shoulder. Snorkmaiden swallowed and nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak without embarrassing herself further. She sat down at the table, keeping her gaze trained on her knees. Moomintroll continued to laugh nervously, cleaning up his mess with a flurry of excuses, but Snorkmaiden couldn’t even bring herself to look at him.

Not for the first time since this whole mess began, she wondered if it was all her fault. Perhaps she was being punished. If she had simply read the writing on the wall and stepped away gracefully, rather than clinging on and on…

Moominpappa glanced at her over and over out of the corner of her eyes. After a while, he cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Snorkmaiden, you enjoy Hollywood films, don’t you?” he asked. Snorkmaiden lifted her head, surprised.

“Oh, ah, yes,” she said. “When the television Snork built works well enough to play them…”

“Splendid! Then do you happen to know the winner of this year’s Academy Award for best Lead Actress?” he said, putting down the paper and uncapping a pen, offering it to her. “This crossword is all starlets, and I’m afraid an old moomin like myself is wholly out of touch.”

Snorkmaiden smiled, a bit wobbly, and took the pen. Moominpappa urged her on, asking her about this star and this film, acting very impressed with her knowledge.

They were a clumsy sort of people, the Moomins. But kind. Yes, Snorkmaiden thought, certainly that.

****

“Oh, I did hope we could sail the bark boats today,” Moomintroll said sadly, looking out of the window. The rain has processed to a big enough storm that even Snufkin wasn’t inclined to go out in it. Not that he was allowed – he had tried to leave after breakfast, and Snorkmaiden had dragged him back inside, snappishly informing him he certainly wasn’t going to go off and have dangerous and _unkempt_ adventures when he was piloting _her_ body.

He supposed it was fair. Say he got swept away and drowned – what would become of Snorkmaiden then? Or what if he got into an accident and ended up with a nasty scar? He wouldn’t care about such things normally, but to do it to borrowed property certainly didn’t seem fair.

Yet knowing it was reasonable didn’t make being trapped any more bearable. It was like the itch before winter, only a thousand times worse, because it was not even his skin, and he could not play his mouth-organ or smoke his pipe or do anything that would take his mind off it.

“And we can’t even go to the woods,” Moomintroll continued.

“Well, I’m sure there’s plenty to do in here,” Moominmamma said. “Like solve poor Snufkin and Snorkmaiden’s predicament for one.”

“I _know_ …” Moomintroll whined, turning around and leaning against the window with a sigh so melodramatic Snufkin felt his mouth twitch. He was a very silly troll, sometimes. “I would just rather sail bark boats.”

“We’d all rather sail bark-boats than deal with tricky problems, Moomintroll,” Moominmamma said.

“He’d rather do _anything_ than deal with his problems,” Little My added nastily, stamping on a bowl of strawberries on the kitchen counter.

“Hmm, so really no change from last night, eh?” Moominpappa asked, inspecting both of them carefully. “Well, Sno – Snufkin, you look a bit of a different colour from last night.”

Snufkin glanced down to see his fur had turned gold again.

“Are you trying to find a shade to suit you?” Moomintroll asked. “I don’t think anything will suit you as well as your old body, though.”

“Just not used to Snork fur, I’m afraid,” he replied, forcing a smile.

“Ah, yes, I forgot about that. Barely see you change at all these days, Snorkmaiden,” Moominpappa said, shrugging.

“White is easiest to accessorise with,” Snorkmaiden said primly, not even looking up from her gossip magazine. She was lying on her belly on the floor, kicking her legs absently in the air as she flicked through the magazine. She didn’t even seem to be reading it, just glancing through the pictures.

Snufkin still wasn’t used to looking at himself like this. He was sure he had never sat like that in his life. He’d certainly never even touched that sort of magazine. Or talking about _accessorising_. Judging by the way everyone else kept looking at her, it was an unusual sight for everyone else too.

Judging by the way Sniff was gawking at him, the sight of Snorkmaiden in his old hat, laying out tarot cards, was equally strange.

“Well, none of us have any idea how it happened...so can’t we just see if it wears off on its own?” Moomintroll asked.

“That’s not going to work!” Little My cried.

Snufkin only hummed, squinting down at his tarot spread – the dragonfly in reverse, yellow acacia, and the conch shell. 

“Oh, what do you know. What do your cards say, Snuf?” Moomintroll asked, leaning over curiously. Snufkin hastily shuffled them away.

“Ah, I don’t think my cards recognise me properly,” he said quickly, “They aren’t being very clear at all.”

“The only thing _clear_ is that this isn’t going to just solve itself!” Little My said, tipping the crushed strawberries into a pot. “Mamma, the strawberries are done!”

“Thank you, dear. I’ll handle the jam – we don’t want a repeat of the last time you used the stove,” Mamma said, carrying the pot over the stove and lighting it. “And I quite agree with My, as it happens. I don’t think you two will switch back if we just do nothing.”

Snufkin sighed. He had been hoping that, perhaps, both he and Snorkmaiden had just both inhaled some odd pollen the previous day, and this were just a temporary bout of magic that would fade away and be a funny story quickly enough. Yet he was more and more convinced this was a curse – punishment, of some kind, perhaps. To the both of them? He wasn’t sure. Snorkmaiden was a very different sort of person to him, but he didn’t think she’d done anything to deserve this.

Yet Snufkin himself…oh, he cringed to think about what he had been doing. He had convinced himself it were harmless, but clearly the forest had saw fit to punish him.

If he simply hadn't came back to Moominvalley, over and over, despite knowing he was defying his own nature and causing problems with other people’s…

Oh, by the trees, this was all his fault, wasn’t it?

“So what are we going to do with the two of them?” Little My asked, rubbing her paws together, “Maybe if we bashed their heads hard enough, they’d just switch right back.”

“Don’t you dare,” Snorkmaiden said, glowering.

“Perhaps they should make something together,” Moominmamma suggested shyly. “Like…a painting, or something?”

“I know what will sort this situation out,” Moominpappa interrupted. “A good story, that’s all you two need!”

Little My groaned.

“Urgh, you windbag, that’s your solution to everything!” she said. “What’s a silly old story going to do?”

Moominpappa looked at her, completely aghast.

“Why, stories are the most important thing in this world, Little My! They are the steady ship in the sea of uncertainty!” Moominpappa said. “They tell us how the world should be! A good story is like a mirror one can look into and say ‘Ah yes, that is me! I know who I am now!’. What could be more powerful?”

“Don’t stand on the coffee table, dear,” Moominmamma said mildly. Moominpappa stepped down, still pointing grandly into the distance. After a second, he settled back on the arm chair and plucked a volume from the side-table.

“And lucky for you children,” he said, “I have just finished a _thrilling_ chapter of my memoirs!”

Snufkin perked up – he did enjoy Moominpappa’s memoirs. Even if he weren’t thoroughly convinced the details were all wholly accurate these days. All the same, Sniff’s father was interesting to hear about, and he enjoyed that odd Joxter character – he seemed a fellow Snufkin could get along with.

“Ooh, what’s it about, Pappa?” Moomintroll asked.

“Why, how I rescued your mother from the raging seas, of course!” he said. “She fell in love with me at first sight, you know. Though I took longer to realise, as men tend to.”

Moominmamma giggled, covering her face with her paws.

Little My gagged and Snufkin deflated. He definitely didn’t want to hear a love story right now –

“Oooh, I’ve wanted to hear this in full!” Snorkmaiden burst out, making Sniff just about fall off his chair. He went from staring at Snufkin to staring at her, eyes almost bursting out of his head.

“I feel like you cut too much in the play,” Snorkmaiden continued, as though she couldn’t quite help herself. “You were far too pre-occupied with the Booble scenes…”

“Those, my dear,” Moominpappa informed her tartly, “were very important. Now I don’t believe I asked for notes. Now settle in.”

Little My huffed, but sat anyway, expression already bored. Moomintroll, so enthusiastic a moment ago, didn’t seem too keen either.

“You know,” Moomintroll said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, “I have heard this story, Pappa –“

“Not _this edition_ ,” Moominpappa reprimanded him, and cleared his throat importantly. “Now, if we’re all quite done with _feedback_ …”

They all nodded. Moominpappa would rake his claws against something if he were not allowed to start soon, anyway.

“Hem-hem. Well then…”

_It was a terrible night, a storm to end all storms! I had been sailing in it for many a day now, completely alone. Of course, I was thriving, but I was out ensuring all others were safe, after all, only I, Moominpappa, could –_

“Hold on a tic,” Sniff piped up. “Wasn’t my daddy the Muddler with you last time?”

“Poetic license, my boy,” Moominpappa said. “On-stage, it is much better to have a side-character your dashing hero can say many intelligent things to. May I continue?”

He looked around, finding nods of encouragement.

_It was a terrible night, a storm to end all storms! I had been sailing in it for weeks now, completely alone. Of course, I was thriving, but I needed to ensure all others were safe. After all, only I, Moominpappa, was a sailor fit to survive this night!_

_The wind was howling, and the rain soaked my fur. The storm raged so wildly that I could barely hear my own heroic voice. And then I heard it – a delicate cry for help, the kind that can only belong to a maiden –_

“How did you heard it if it was so delicate and the storm was so loud?” Little My asked.

“Love, Little My,” Moominpappa said rosily, prompting a flustered ‘Oh!’ from Moominmamma and much gagging and retching from Little My.

“Now…may I continue?”

They shrugged.

_And then I heard it – a gentle cry, like a siren singing her song, distressed and calling for help from a most masculine sailor!_

“Er, um, pardon me?” Snufkin said. “Sirens don’t sing for help. Rather, if one heard a siren, it would be wise to sail the opposite way entirely…”

“ _Poetic license!”_ Moominpappa snapped. “Good grief, you children used to be much more receptive to my stories.”

“Well, we are bigger now, Pappa,” Moomintroll said, resting his cheek on his paw and looking impressively bored.

“And if I ever stumble upon a djinn, I would wish you all never became teenagers in an instant,” Moominpappa muttered darkly. With another noisy throat-clearing, he charged on:

_Through the dark ocean, I saw a white paw with the most beautiful gleaming fur I’d ever seen, reaching out from the waves. A fair Moominmaiden, lost amid the sea! Clinging to her handbag as though her life depended on it. I was moved to action – I sailed out, standing proud and crying out –_

“Why was she there?”

They all started, turning to stare at Snorkmaiden. She had sat up, staring at Moominpappa with a pensive expression. They all exchanged quizzical glances.

It was well enough for the rest of them to ask questions – they did it more and more lately - but Snorkmaiden rarely ever did. She _loved_ romantic stories. No matter how outlandish, she would squeal and sigh and delight in every ridiculous second. Yet now she simply looked puzzled.

“Er,” Moominpappa said, as though he’d never expected to be asked such a question in his life. “Why was who there?”

“Why, Moominmamma, of course,” she said. “Why was she out in the storm?”

Moominpappa opened and closed his mouth. Snorkmaiden fidgeted, picking at her sleeves.

“I just don’t understand Moominmamma’s motivation in this scene,” she continued, quietly. “If it were a big awful storm that had raged for days, why was she out there at all?”

Moominpappa now looked like the one floundering out at sea.

“Well, that’s –“

“And, well. Wouldn’t it be rather more exciting if we knew why she was there?”

“Er –“

“If we understand why she is there, it would matter more to us than she is safe,” she said, lighting up with excitement. “Like, oh, for instance, if she had been taken by _pirates_ , and had used the storm as a clever but daring opportunity to escape –“

“This is non-fiction, young lady,” Moominpappa interrupted. “There is poetic license, but I will not stray into fantasy.”

“Well, it’s just…ladies don’t appear at random just to be rescued,” Snorkmaiden continued, voice very small and uncertain. Little My laughed, kicking her feet.

“Ha! That’s all they _do_ in _his_ stories,” she said. “All they do is get married and have babies. It’s _boring_.”

“Well, what’s wrong with that?” Moominmamma asked, sounding a little hurt. “Many women do just that.”

“Urgh, but that’s _all_ they every seem to do in stories!” Little My complained. “It’s like it’s all they’re _allowed_ to do. It’s lousy, is what it is. Can’t any of them go become villains or explorers or inventors or go live in the wild or do anything else? Why does _everything_ have to end with some sappy gross romance?”

Moominpappa smiled in a funny way.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll feel differently when you’re older, My,” he said. “When little girls become young ladies, they naturally become quite interested in finding a nice fellow and –“

“Bleugh!” Little My cried, jerking back so violently she almost fell off the arm of the sofa. “Not me, bud, no way, no how, no _day_!”

“It’s simply how things happen,” Moominpappa said, chuckling. “Why, I bet even old Snufkin will find a nice lady one day and settle down.”

That caused everyone to fall silent. Moominmamma nudged her husband, giving him a pained look, and everyone else turned to stare at Snufkin (apart from Sniff, who had forgotten who was who again, and instead stared at Snorkmaiden).

“That would be…very strange,” Moomintroll muttered, tugging at his tail.

“I believe we’re getting off-topic,” Snufkin said, trying not to sound or look anywhere near as horrified as he felt. “The rest of your tale, Moominpappa?”

“Ah, yes, the thrilling conclusion!” he replied, “Now, you’ll all enjoy this.”

_And so I cried ‘I’m here!’, and dove gallantly into the sea to save her._

_The water was treacherous, and full of piranhas and water-witches and all sorts of terrifying things that nipped at my pelt and grabbed at my tail, yet all I cared about was that the beautiful Moomin woman was sinking. I reached out a paw and swum with all the force I could. A wave kicked up behind us, and quite like fate we came together, my paws found hers._

_Clutching them tight, I brought us both to shore. With supermoominal strength, I found a foothold on the rocks, escaping from the grasping hands of the sea-witches below, and I trudged out to the shore, finally finding a patch of sand to lay my sweet burden down._

_She came to – gazing at me with eyes like emeralds, and were I not so stalwart I would have fallen in love right then and there._

_“Your handbag, my lady,” I said, offering her back her precious cargo. Yet she was so swept away by my heroism, all she asked for was my paw._

Moominpappa closed the book with great ceremony, eyes closed.

“Now, I imagine when I open my eyes, my fantastic story has reminded you both how the world is, and you are right back in the bodies you should be.”

Snufkin wasn’t sure about that. In truth, the story had only made him feel very small and strange. It was not that it was an unpleasant story. He knew, really, it was rather sweet and there was nothing wrong it. Yet it was so distant from him it only made him feel lonely.

Moominpappa clapped his paws together and opened his eyes.

“Well?” he asked.

“Oh, I was uncertain about some parts but the ending was so romantic,” Snorkmaiden sighed, resting her cheek on her paw.

“Ah,” Moominpappa said, deflated. “So…you’re still Snorkmaiden then.”

“Very thrilling,” Snufkin said, as he felt he ought to say _something_. “Although I would have enjoyed more detail about the sea creatures.”

“Aaaand you’re still Snufkin,” Moominpappa said, and then tossed the book behind him. “Right then, who else has an idea?”

****

It turned out, nobody else had an idea. The rest of the day passed in great uncertainty. Suggestions were occasionally raised, but each one fell just as fast, and the rain continued relentlessly. Snufkin mostly sat watching Moomintroll and Sniff play checkers, occasionally napping with his hat over his eyes.

Eventually, Sniff dozed off and had to be tucked into bed. After doing that, Moomintroll came back down to tidy away the checkers board and sweep up the cake crumbs Sniff has scattered everywhere. It was sweet, Snufkin thought as he watched him, that Moomintroll could be so irritated with Sniff so often, and yet so gentle with him other times.

After a moment, Moomintroll spoke up, glancing over his shoulder.

“Snuf?”

Snufkin lifted his hat a little to indicate he was listening.

“I haven’t heard you play your mouth-organ since…well, the other day,” he said. “Is everything okay?”

As soon as he said it, he stopped, flushing pink.

“Oh, well, obviously it’s not! I just, mean, well –“

Snufkin laughed, and Moomintroll smiled back at him, relaxing just a little.

“I’m afraid it’s difficult to play now, with this snout and these paws,” he said, lifting his paws to demonstrate. “I’m not used to it in the least.”

Moomintroll deflated, turning towards him and worrying his tail between his paws.

“I’m sorry. This must be awful for you.”

“It’s not ideal,” Snufkin admitted. “I’m sure we will think of some clever solution before long, however.”

Although he desperately hoped the solution was not what he suspected it would be.

“Maybe you could play another instrument,” Moomintroll suggested, sitting next to him. “You’d be splendid at any of them.”

“I’ve dabbled in others,” Snufkin said vaguely. “But I’ve never really put the effort in. An instrument would be another heavy thing to carry.”

And it would be another thing that could get broken or lost or stolen.

“Oh, you’re all blue,” Moomintroll said sadly. “Well, if you wanted to learn another instrument, I - we could keep it here at Moominhouse for you. Then you wouldn’t have to lug it about! You could just come here whenever you wanted to play it. Or take it away when you wanted it and put it back when you were done. Anything would be fine, really."

“That’s very kind, but I’m quite happy as I am,” he said.

Moomintroll continued to stare at him, distress evident on his face.

“Shall I whistle for you?” he asked suddenly. “I know it’s not the same as making music yourself. But I think you could use cheering up, and it cheers me up when you play for _me_.”

Snufkin laughed, covering his face again. For all the good it did with the silly golden glow in his fur.

“Oh, alright then. Whistle away.”

****

They spent the evening whistling and humming and listening to the rain together. It was as delightful as any time with Moomintroll, but Snufkin was so exhausted he was relieved when Moominpappa came down, in his pyjamas, to tell them both to shut up and go to bed.

Although, he wasn’t looking forward to trying to sleep again. He couldn’t settle at all last time.

“That old furbag changes that story every time,” Little My commented next to him at the sink, brushing her teeth and spraying toothpaste foam everywhere as she spoke. Snufkin patted his face dry with his hand-towel, glancing across at her.

“Which old fur bag?” he asked.

“Pappa! Who else! That silly story about Moominmamma,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I swear, first time I heard it, it was on the beach, and Moominmamma only asked for her handbag back, none of that tosh about immediately proposing, or whatever that was supposed to be.”

“He’s a story-teller, My,” Snufkin said, applying his toothpaste to Snorkmaiden’s toothbrush (they decided it would be grosser to continue using their own). “Dramatisation is part of the package. We all inflate our tales.”

Little My huffed. Snufkin went back to inspecting his reflection, still rather fascinated to see Snorkmaiden staring back at him. He opened his jaw and tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Snorks have such strange teeth. So large and flat.”

“Of course they do, they’re plant-eaters,” Little My said, showing her nasty little teeth. “ _We’re_ hunters.”

“I didn’t realise we were of the same stock, little one,” Snufkin said, amused. Little My shrugged.

“Normally, anyway,” she said, with a dismissive snort. “Right now you’re just a big teddy bear. And not just on the inside.”

He raised his eyebrows at that.

“I’m hardly a teddy bear,” he replied.

“Could have fooled me, buddy, you –“

“Snufkin?”

They stopped, turning to see Snorkmaiden standing at the doorway, in Snufkin’s sleep-shirt. There was a triangle of white cream on her nose.

“Oi, you’ve got junk on your face,” Little My told her, tapping her nose. “Or on his face, I guess.”

“I know,” she said. “I’m _trying_ to fix someone’s patchy fur problems. Snufkin, can I talk to you?”

“Certainly,” he said, wiping his mouth.

They stood there for a second longer, until Snorkmaiden sighed.

“Alone, Little My.”

“Why?” she asked, uncapping the mouth wash. “What are you going to talk about?”

“None of your business, just shoo!” she snapped, waving a hand at her. Little My took a swig of mouthwash and swallowed it, glowering at Snorkmaiden all the while.

“Fine, fine. Have fun being awkward at each other,” she said, before scampering out of the room.

“She is a menace,” Snorkmaiden grumbled.

“Quite,” he said. “So what was it you’d like to talk about?”

Snorkmaiden hesitated, and Snufkin got an intensely foreboding feeling. Perhaps she had figured out how this had all happened and it was what Snufkin dreaded most. Maybe it really was all Snufkin’s fault for getting greedy. If he were less selfish, he would just volunteer to leave Moominvalley for good.

“I – I think we should probably switch rooms,” she said finally. Snufkin blinked.

“Hm?”

“Look, I hate to admit it, but your body isn’t suited to sleeping in a bed,” she said. “And I know mine isn’t used to sleeping in a tent.”

Snufkin rubbed his eyes. He supposed he had hardly gotten a peep the previous night. His tent, normally so safe and cosy, had felt rather bare and claustrophobic, and he’d rolled back and forth, developing a sore back and incapable of figuring out where Snorkmaiden’s tail was meant to lie.

“That’s probably wise,” he said. “Let’s not get too comfortable, though. I’m sure this will all be back to normal before long.”

“Of course.”

They fell silent again. Snufkin wondered what on earth they ever _used_ to talk about.

“Well. Er. Good night,” Snorkmaiden said after a while.

“Yes. Good night.”

****

Few creatures in Moominvalley had ever been in Snufkin’s tent. Last summer, Sniff and Moomintroll had both went inside, hiding from the Groke. Sniff had bragged about it relentlessly.

Yet Moomintroll had been _noticeably_ quiet about it. Just like with the dragon, it was like he’d rather she didn’t know about it.

She supposed she should be honoured, but all she felt was it was a rather depressing little place to live. With only his little lantern, his threadbare bedroll he’d been carting about since he was much smaller. There was his cloak folded neatly, the mouth-organ wrapped in velvet in his pocket. Aside from that, Snufkin had nothing that would last. Everything else was to be eaten or burned or would rot away fast as the flowers he sometimes kept on his hat, and he asserted that was how he liked it.

There was nothing that even conveyed Snufkin had met another person in his life. It was like the tent was a sealed casket, floating out in space.

Snorkmaiden lay down, looking at the canvas above her face.

It was no wonder, really, he came wandering back to Moominvalley every year.

****

Snorkmaiden’s room was full of _stuff._ Snufkin didn’t understand how one person could possibly find use for all of this. There were bottles of perfume and mountains of cosmetics, most of them barely n touched. There were fur-brushes of all different shapes and sizes, combs with little teeth and combs with big teeth. He was certain that she owned every single poster of Audrey Glamour every put to print – the ghastly woman was staring at him from almost every spare surface.

There was a blurred picture of Moomintroll on her nightstand, putting his paws up to protest against the photo. Snufkin turned it around.

It amazed him that anyone could sleep in such a cluttered space. How on earth did Snorkmaiden ever figure out what was really important, when she clung on to every little knick-knack and keepsake? How could she remember anything properly, when everything had been reduced to a _thing_ to be kept?

Snufkin laid down on the bed with a sigh. Despite himself, he was still quite awake, mind too full of things and feet too itching to wander to sleep. He twisted, trying to curl up like he’d seen snorks do. His elbow hit something.

He picked it up – a book. He pushed aside the great quantity of blankets and pillows, discovering more underneath. Battered paperbacks, most with silly girlish titles, many with swooning maidens on the front. And pirates. What was with the pirates?

Digging around, Snufkin found one that looked more well-worn than the others. In fact, the cover had been torn off completely. The spine was held together with layers of crinkled tape, every page was torn or stained or dog-eared. With every page he turned, the book crumbled more, releasing the scent of must.

It was clearly the most wonderful item in this room.

Well, he thought, smoothing out the pages, he had little else to do.

****

Moomintroll wasn’t a stupid troll. Yes, he was something a little slow on the uptake compared to others, and he wasn’t very well travelled, and ok, so he made a lot of spelling errors, and yes, okay, he still didn’t _really_ know what algebra was, but he _was_ capable of putting two and two together.

He knew it was unlikely to be a complete coincidence that he met that strange creature just before this all began to unfold.

The problem was, if it was that strange creature’s doing, then there was a very good chance it was Moomintroll’s _fault_. And it was his fault because of the silly slip-of-the-tongues he’d done a scant handful of times. He couldn’t possibly admit to everyone that was the case. It would unfold a whole horrible conversation Moomintroll very much didn’t want to have, and his friendships with both Snorkmaiden and Snufkin wouldn’t be quite the same again.

He couldn’t have that. All he wanted, very desperately, was for everything to remain the way it was. Or, even better, for things to go back to how they were as children.

Well, even if he couldn’t bring himself to admit what he’d done, he could at least go and try to _fix_ it. He couldn’t bear to leave them as they were – not when Snufkin had been so blue (quite literally).

After he was certain everyone had gone to bed, Moomintroll descended the ladder from his window, umbrella curled up in his tail. From there, he walked to the woods where he saw the Passer-by last, quickly and quietly as he could.

“Hello?” he called, gripping his umbrella. “Little creature? Passer-by? I’ve learned my lesson, so you can reverse the spell now!”

He looked up at the branches, bouncing in the rain and breeze. The only noise was the hiss of the rain around him. He couldn’t see the Passer-by anywhere.

“I really have learned my lesson!” he continued. “I’ll be a much better friend from now on! Really!”

The forest remained the same.

“I’ve already learned lots of lessons, you know!” he shouted, starting to get irritated. “I know I should listen and I know things can change and I know I shouldn’t try to change other’s natures! So you can stop punishing my friends, because I don’t need to change any more!”

“I find the forest responds better to a soft tone, young Moomintroll.”

Moomintroll jumped and turned. Too-Ticky stood behind him. She was bundled into a yellow raincoat, with a butterfly catching net over one shoulder and a jar held under her arm.

“Too-Ticky!” he said, waving. She smiled, dipping her head.

“Moomintroll,” she said. “Bit cold and wet for a midnight stroll, isn’t it?”

“Uh, yes, well, I had a little business to take care of…” Moomintroll muttered, and then blinked. “Wait, isn’t a little early for you to be back?”

“Aye, tis,” she said. “But a little creature from home got loose, and I need to catch it up before it causes any trouble.”

“A little creature…?” he repeated. “Um. It wouldn’t happen to small and furry, with wings and a pen, would it?”

“That’d be the one. So you ran into the wee critter already, did you?” she said. “Did I come too late to stop the trouble?”

“Um…perhaps,” Moomintroll said slowly. “I think the creature has played a mean prank on Snufkin and Snorkmaiden.”

Too-Ticky just stared at him silently. Moomintroll cleared his throat.

“Now I have _no idea_ why! None of us even spoke to her – it!”

“Then how did you know the critter was about, Moomintroll?” she asked, expression completely unchanging.

“Ah, uh, I saw it. Flying. She – it didn’t notice me,” Moomintroll said, mouth drying up from the force of lying. “But I saw it use its pen to cast a spell, and this morning Snufkin and Snorkmaiden swapped bodies, and we don’t know what to do about it.”

Moomintroll looked pleadingly at her. Too-Ticky was so wise and knowledgeable about so many things, so perhaps she knew what to do to help. And, most importantly, she knew very little of the valley gossip. She would be able to give an impartial opinion about what to do. An opinion that didn’t implicate Moomintroll one way or the other.

“The creature you’re dealing with here, young Moomintroll, isn’t one to strike without reason,” she said slowly. “The funny thing about their kind is that they only ever do mischief when they think they’re helping. Though what they think is helpful is what we think is a right old pain.”

Moomintroll nodded miserably. Oh dear, oh dear, this was sounding more and more like it was his fault. Yet surely what the Passer-by said wasn’t true. He valued both Snorkmaiden and Snufkin deeply! He was certain he wasn’t doing anything wrong by either of them. It seemed such disproportionate retribution, just for a little slip of the tongue and one little argument with Snorkmaiden.

How could he fix something that wasn’t broken? He was doing everything as he ought to! He was playing the part as well as he could, surely that mattered!

“So, what do we do?” he asked. Too-Ticky hummed in a noncommittal sort of way.

“That depends on what needs doing,” she replied vaguely.

“That’s no help at all,” Moomintroll huffed, quite tired of everyone always talking in riddles. Too-Ticky laughed and took one of his paws in hers.

“Sometimes, I find what helps best in this sort of quandary, is just to think long and hard what you want, Moomintroll,” she said, and squeezed his paw. “Sometimes the main person we’re lying to is ourselves.”

“Hmm, that's very wise,” Moomintroll said, trying to sound intellectual, but what he really wanted to say was more like this:

_What, by my blessed tail, is that supposed to mean? How can anyone lie to themselves? That is the one person you can’t lie to, no matter how hard you try. Believe me! I know!_

Too-Ticky nodded and dropped Moomintroll’s paw, picking the jar back up.

“Now you tell me if you see that tricksy wee critter again!” she called, beginning to walk away. “I’d like to catch her before autumn.”

Moomintroll watched her go, the butterfly net dangling from over her shoulder.

“Oh, yes, I’ll do more than _see_ her,” Moomintroll muttered, already in the process of a plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all: the mental image of Moomin just yeeting that plate directly upwards really makes me laugh. He just launches it.
> 
> Second of all: my favourite thing about Snorkmaiden in the books is that she literally cannot stop banging on about kidnapping. She brings it up all the time. Girl has an account on Wattpad where she writes weird self-insert kidnapping fanfic and you cannot change my mind.


	4. In which Moomintroll attempts to revive an old past-time, there is a fierce competition, and finally an unpleasant discovery.

“Well, we’re still at the exact same place we were two days ago!” Moominpappa said, surveying them all at the breakfast table in the morning. Snufkin was still Snorkmaiden, and Snorkmaiden was still Snufkin. The only thing that changed was the weather - the rain had finally broken.

“No kidding, genius,” Little My muttered from a flowerpot on the windowsill. Moominpappa either didn’t hear her or elected not to.

“So, perhaps we need to take a more personal approach!” he continued.

If this was leading to some kind of heart-to-heart over breakfast, Snufkin was going to climb out of the window and run as fast as Snorkmaiden’s body could manage.

“What’d you mean?” Snorkmaiden asked, squinting at him.

“Well, perhaps what we need to do is find something you and Snufkin can enjoy doing together. Common interests, shall we say,” he said.

“That’s a great idea, Pappa,” Moomintroll said, brightening up.

“Yes, yes, I know,” Moominpappa said. “So…what about you kids take a fishing trip together?”

“Urgh, no,” Snorkmaiden said. “That would just be Snufkin and Moomintroll sitting and ignoring me! I don’t think so!”

“Hm, alright, alright. Then how about…ah, a Hemulen’s travelling museum is in the Valley. Why don’t you go see his collection?” he said, nodding to himself. “Plenty of beautiful things for Snorkmaiden to admire, things from all over the world for Snufkin to enjoy.”

“Museums,” Snufkin said with a sniff. “Monuments to imperialism, the lot of them.”

“Er, right. You could go on a hike up the Lonely Mountains?”

“Please, I can barely walk in Snufkin’s boots,” Snorkmaiden retorted, and then glanced over at Snufkin. “I do _not_ understand why you only own one pair of shoes, and why the heels on them are so high.”

“Oh for goodness’s sakes, children,” Moominpappa said, huffing. “Do you two have _anything_ in common at all?”

They looked at one another, and then at Moomintroll.

“Moomintroll does not count,” Moominpappa said flatly.

The two of them looked away. Moomintroll went very pink around the snout.

After a while, Snufkin decided to voice an idea he’d been awkwardly harbouring since the previous evening.

“I suppose we could go to the beach,” he said slowly, glancing cautiously at Snorkmaiden. “We both do love the sea.”

“Oh, yes!” Snorkmaiden said, brightening up, “We haven’t been scavenging for a long while. I do love combing the beaches.”

“Er!” Moomintroll interrupted, very loudly, “I was wondering…what about butterfly catching?”

“Butterfly catching…?” Moominpappa repeated, sounding bemused. Snufkin had to admit, he was in the same boat. He couldn’t believe they’d _ever_ been out butterfly catching before. It was a bit of an old-fashioned hobby, these days. Mostly, it was just old hemulens cultivating a collection. Snorkmaiden looked just as puzzled.

“Yes, yes, I ran into someone out doing it yesterday, and I thought that would be a wonderful activity for the day,” he said, nodding, eyes shining with excitement. “Snufkin, you love insects and observing nature, and Snorkmaiden you love beautiful things. I think it’s a great thing for us to do together.

“Butterflies are boring,” Little My said. “What about dragonflies? I need a new pet.”

“I’m afraid there aren’t many dragonflies this summer,” Snufkin said sadly., “It’s been a touch too hot for them, I fear. I’ve only seen one since getting to Moominvalley.”

“And _you’re_ not invited anyway,” Moomintroll said tartly. “Besides, nobody collects _dragonflies_. It’s butterflies you’re meant to catch.”

He rounded on Snorkmaiden and Snufkin, beaming at them.

“Well, what do you think?”

“I don’t know…” Snorkmaiden said, sounding as unconvinced as Snufkin felt.

“I would prefer the beach…” Snufkin said.

Moomintroll deflated, looking so dreadfully sad that Snufkin wanted to leave Moominhouse that second.

“Oh…well, I just thought it might be a good idea…and I went to the attic and found Moominpappa’s old nets and cleaned them up for us…” he said, and then sighed sadly, draping an arm over his eyes. “But I suppose if you’d prefer not to…”

“Oh come off it, you fuzzy old turnip!” Little My shouted. “Do you really think they’re going to fall for that?”

Moomintroll lifted his arm and looked at them both pleadingly.

****

“Alright, so I have a net for each of us! And I cleaned out some of Mamma’s old jam jars, so if we catch anything…ahem… _interesting_ , we can put them in here for observation.”

Snorkmaiden was fairly good at telling when Moomintroll was up to something. Not that it was difficult – he was a dreadful liar at the best of times, and when he was trying to be sneaky he just seemed so _pleased_ with himself. She just didn’t have the faintest idea being out in the woods with butterfly nets would achieve.

“Why do we have to come here again?” Snorkmaiden asked. They were just here the other day, having yet _another_ argument.

“Well, the person I spoke to the other day said this was a great place to catch, ah, ahahah, _interesting_ creatures.”

“Why do you keep saying it like that?” Snorkmaiden asked flatly.

“No reason, no reason at all!” Moomintroll said, grinning like a child who had just propped a bucket of water over a door.

“Interesting creatures, hm?” Snufkin asked, tilting his hat up. “That wouldn’t be anything dangerous, would it?”

Moomintroll turned towards him, expression solemn.

“Oh yes. Terribly dangerous.”

“Oh dear. We must be cautious, in that case,” Snufkin said, looking as though he wanted to laugh. “Though I suppose you’re prepared for any danger that might arise?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t let any harm come to the two of you,” Moomintroll said.

Snorkmaiden rolled her eyes. Her head was hurting far too much for this. They both got so _silly_ around each other. Normally, Snorkmaiden was all for silliness, but she never felt like she was invited to take part in this sort.

“I feel greatly reassured already,” Snufkin said with a chuckle. “If I run into any danger, I’ll -“

“Oh for goodness sakes!” Snorkmaiden burst out. “Must you two do this when I’m _right here_?”

They both looked at her as though they’d quite forgotten she was there. 

“Do what?” they both asked.

“Urgh, nevermind,” Snorkmaiden said, snatching a net from Moomintroll’s paw. “Let’s get on with it.”

“Well, interesting or dangerous, I don’t see why we need to catch any creature,” Snufkin said, still lying on his back in the grass. “Surely it’s better to let them be free and observe them as they are?”

“We can’t observe them closely if we don’t catch them,” Snorkmaiden retorted. “And how are we supposed to appreciate something we can’t even hold in our paws?”

Snufkin hummed, tilting his hat to obscure his face (as best as it could, now he had Snorkmaiden’s snout to contend with).

“Well, we can’t hold the stars in our paws. And we appreciate those every night.”

“Oh shut up.”

“Come on, you two, no arguing,” Moomintroll said. “Snufkin, we catch them to make a game of it. The finest butterfly-catcher wins, you see? That way it’s both observation and a wonderful game.”

Snufkin didn’t lift his hat, but his fur was changing colours again. Oh, he could try to act the calm and composed forest boy as much as he liked, but Snorkmaiden knew he couldn’t resist a game.

“Well, alright,” he said, standing up with a lazy stretch, extending a paw to receive his net. “I suppose I can give it a go.”

Honestly, there was no need to try to sound so relaxed, Snorkmaiden thought. His fur was bright as fire, it was giving him dead away. Surely it wasn’t healthy to act so _disinterested_ all the time.

“Great!” Moomintroll said cheerfully, “Let’s come back here in an hour and compare our catches! One, two –“

A great flurry of butterflies burst out of nowhere behind them, and Snufkin and Snorkmaiden began swinging their nets as though their very lives depended on it. Snorkmaiden swung down her net, catching a large tiger butterfly. She deftly snatched it up and put it in the jar strapped to her hip, moving onto the next.

She spied the bright blue of an emperor butterfly in the distance and sprinted off towards it. Snufkin saw her go and gave chase. Because of _course_ he would just try to snatch up whatever she was aiming for. She elbowed him, hard, suddenly grateful for how pointy and spindly her new little arms were, and he stumbled and fell.

Buffeted by a wave of guilt, she turned back to check on him. As she did, she stumbled and fell herself.

Snufkin leapt over her and caught the emperor butterfly in two swift movements.

Snorkmaiden stood, watching as Snufkin ran off, laughing. Hmph. Well, no matter. There was plenty of time left.

****

Moomintroll had stumbled and fell when the butterflies came out, rushing out behind him as if from nowhere, but neither Snufkin or Snorkmaiden had noticed. Sitting up, he watched them compete, a blur of waving nets among the frankly ridiculous amount of butterflies.

Oh dear.

They were getting…rather aggressive about it.

He decided he’d rather not get in the middle of all that.

“I rather forgot they got like this,” he murmured. 

Come to think about it, he had not seen Snorkmaiden and Snufkin play together just the two of them for…well, many years.

In fact, he was certain it was back when those pink clouds came to Moominvalley. Snufkin and Snorkmaiden had invented some absurdly dangerous game that involved them trying to ram the other off their cloud. It was all a bit too rough for Moomintroll, so he had went to surprise the Hemulen and see his Pappa. When he returned they were _still_ at it.

Moomintroll ducked out of the way of a swinging net, yelping. Snorkmaiden shouted an indifferent-sounding apology, still giving chase to the butterfly. There were far more butterflies than was normal, he was sure.

“Where on earth did they all even come from?”

“Well, I thought it would be rather _boring_ otherwise. Who wants to watch people quietly looking for butterflies?”

Moomintroll looked up and saw the creature from the other day perched in the tree above him. She was sitting with a large bottle of wine tucked in the fork between the branches, holding a tiny cup in one paw, the other resting behind her head.

“You!” Moomintroll shouted. The Passer-by merely raised her cup of wine in greeting, and then leaned over to grab the bottle with her paw.

“Me,” she said, pulling out the cork with her teeth and filling her cup. “How are you faring, little Moomintroll?”

“Horribly, and you quite know that!”

“Indeed I do! It’s been a great deal of fun,” she said, taking a long drink.

Moomintroll glowered, gripping his net in both paws as he got to his feet. This was his chance! If he caught this little creature he could put an end to all of this mess. All he needed was to keep her distracted.

“You’re rather little to be drinking that,” he said, inching closer. The Passer-by laughed, swilling the wine in her cup.

“I’m much older than you, I promise,” she said, and then paused. “Or much younger. Depends how you look at it. But let’s not get into that.”

Oh, she was too high up – the net wouldn’t reach and Moomintroll didn’t think he could jump high enough. Drat.

“Don’t you want to come down here and be horrible to me close-up?” Moomintroll said. The Passer-by glanced down at him dryly.

“Nice try. I’m not about to come any closer when you’ve got that big horrible net,” she said.

“Boo!”

Little My’s face popped out of the leaves above the Passer-by’s head. She let out a squeal, dropping her cup, knocking the bottle out of the branch, and tumbled off the branch. Moomintroll leapt forward and swung the net over her head, trapping her on the floor.

“That was _cheating_!” the Passer-by howled, “I didn’t know she was even here! How dreadful! How unfair!”

“Well _I_ think it’s rather dreadful and unfair to cast spells on people like you do!” Moomintroll said, trying to find a way to reach under the net and seize the Passer-by. She was wiggling about and kicking up a dreadful racket. Little My dropped down from the tree, landing as nimbly as a cat.

“So, this little thing is what caused our little problem, hm?” Little My said, prodding at the lump under the net. “Oh dear, oh dear. Whatever did you do to upset it?”

“I didn’t do _anything_!” Moomintroll said hotly. He reached under the net to try to grab it. He was rewarded with a set of tiny teeth in his paw for his trouble.

“Ow! Will everyone stop _biting me_!” Moomintroll said, dropping his net. The Passer-by flew out again, buzzing angrily.

“Well, don’t trap lovely ladies in nets!” she snarled. “And don’t say you didn’t do anything! I only cast spells to teach lessons, but you’re not learning anything at all!”

“Teach lessons, eh?” Little My asked. “What are you trying to teach him?”

“Well, if I said _that_ , it wouldn’t be any interesting to watch,” she replied huffily.

“Oh, haven’t you had enough fun?” Moomintroll moaned. “This is very cruel and unusual! Please turn my friends back to normal.”

“Absolutely not, I –“

Little My caught her in the net again. This time, Moomintroll did not hesitate. He shoved his paw under the net, seized her and shoved her hard into the jar, squeezing the lid shut tight (although he had remembered to add air-holes this time).

“Ha, I caught her! Finally!” Moomintroll said.

“ _You_ caught her?” Little My repeated. Moomintroll ignored her, doing a happy little jig on the spot, giggling. Yes, he’d been quick and clever and now everything could get back to normal!

“Snufkin! Snorkmaiden!” he shouted, hiding the jar behind his back, thinking how fun it would be to see them both so very surprised. “Okay, game’s over! Come over here, I have something really exciting to show you.”

Snufkin and Snorkmaiden ignored him – they were both far too pre-occupied with their game.

“Hello?” he called.

They both continued to ignore him.

“OI! YOU TWO!” Little My bellowed. Snufkin accidentally tossed his net, rather than swing it, and Snorkmaiden fell out of the tree (safely, because mumriks always landed on their feet, even when they were being piloted by someone else). After recovering themselves, they rushed over, jars of butterflies in their paws.

“I think I caught more overall,” Snufkin said immediately. “And lots of different species.”

“Yes, I but I caught much lovelier and more interesting ones!” Snorkmaiden retorted.

“Er, alright, you both tie, whatever –“

“ _Whatever?_ ”

“Look, we will deal with that later. I made the best catch of all,” he said leaning forward and hiding the jar behind his back. “I found the solution to our problem!”

“The solution?” Snufkin said. Moomintroll bounced on his heels. Oh, they would be so happy and proud of him!

“Ta-dah!” he said, presenting the jar with a flourish. The Passer-by sat at the bottom, cross-legged and looking rather put out that her fun had come to an early end.

The great fussing and ‘Oh, you’re so clever, Moomintroll’ and ‘Why, how brave of you, Moomintroll’ he had been waiting for didn’t come. Snorkmaiden only looked puzzled. Worse, however, was that Snufkin’s fur was going grey, and his expression was one of utter horror.

“Moomintroll,” he said quietly, “do you know what that is?”

“Well, no. But…”

“She’s the one who did this to you two,” Little My piped up, and gave him a kick in the back of the shin. “Apparently she’s trying to teach this fuzzball here a lesson.”

“Trying to teach _you_ a lesson, Moomintroll?” Snorkmaiden asked, “Not us?”

“Well, uh, that isn’t the point. The point is, I caught her, so now we can make her change you two back!”

“Ahaha! Oh, oh, this is delightful!” the Passer-by said, bursting into laughter hard enough to make her kick her little feet. “Hahaha! You’re still missing the point entirely, it’s so funny! Ahahahaha!”

Moomintroll shook the jar, silencing her and jostling her against the sides of the glass.

“Moomintroll,” Snufkin said cautiously. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“Don’t worry, Snufkin, I have it under control,” he said, and then put on his sternest voice, holding the jar up to eye-level. “Now, you are going to turn my friends back, or – or, I’m going to keep you in this little jar forever!”

He paused, feeling he were being a bit too mean.

“I mean, of course I will give you food and make sure it is a comfortable a jar as I can make it, but it will still be a jar! You don’t want that, do you?”

The Passer-by sighed, resting her chin on her paws.

“I can’t.”

“Of course you can,” Moomintroll said, “You did it, didn’t you –“

“Well yes, but that’s the funny thing,” she said, and then drew her pen from her smock. “I can only _cause_ problems. I can’t _solve_ them. That’s how fairy magic works, silly.”

“Fairy magic?” Moomintroll said, and Snufkin’s look of horror suddenly made far too much sense. “You’re a fairy?”

“Well, yes. What did you think I was?” she said, picking white fur out of her teeth with the nib of her pen. “So I can magic people into a difficult situation, but I can’t magic them back out of it. They must do that themselves. There’d be no point, otherwise.”

“Yes, but – but – I caught you!” Moomintroll spluttered. “I caught you, so you – surely there should be consequences to that?”

“Yes. Consequences like…now I live in a jar,” she said. Moomintroll stared at her, his paws becoming very sweaty. It didn’t seem as though she were lying. Could she honestly not reverse it herself?

“Moomintroll, did you…did you upset this fairy somehow?” Snufkin asked, very slowly.

“No, of course not!” he said, and then stuttered. “Well, sort of, I think. I didn’t upset her, she just…took offense.”

“Wait, then why did you let us waste time trying to figure out why we ended up like this?” Snorkmaiden said, voice rising. “I’ve been feeling awful, thinking I did something terribly wrong!”

“I’ve been feeling much the same,” Snufkin muttered, sounding very small and sad.

This was not going how Moomintroll had envisioned it at all.

“Well, I didn’t -I don’t…I don’t really understand why she did it. S-so.”

“Well, he does keep mixing the two of you up,” the Passer-by said, sounding as though the more upset Snufkin and Snorkmaiden sounded, the more thoroughly she enjoyed herself. “I thought you might as well get mixed up for real.”

“Mixing us up?” Snufkin repeated.

“Oh, _yes_ ,” the Passer-by said with glee. “You see-“

“You, be quiet,” Moomintroll snapped. “I caught you! So surely you should – you should see me as your master, or something of the like, so –“

Little My leapt up and slapped the jar out of his paws. It fell and shattered on the ground.

The Passer-by rose up with a laugh, shaking shards of glass out of her fur. Moomintroll made a dive for her, but she was too tiny and too fast, and weaved out of his paws with ease. Giving him a firm slap around the snout with her tail, she flew off, laughing all the while.

Moomintroll rubbed his sore snout, and upon recovery, turned on Little My, laughing and pointing at him.

“Little My!” Moomintroll said. "Why on earth did you do that?"

“Well it serves you right!” she said. “Next time someone catches you a fairy, you give them credit for it!”

She trotted off, whistling to herself merrily.

“Grr, she is – I’m so sorry, she is unbelievable,” Moomintroll said, turning back to Snufkin and Snorkmaiden. “It’s okay, we can – I’m sure we can catch her again, and –“

He stopped short, catching the look on both of their faces. He’d never seen them both look at him like that. Snorkmaiden picked up the bottle of wine from the grass and looked at it carefully for a moment.

“Snufkin?” she said sweetly, as though Moomintroll were not there at all.

“Yes?”

“Would you like to go to the beach?”

“…I think I rather would.”

“Oh, er, well,” Moomintroll spluttered, “Spending the afternoon at the beach does –“

“No, Moomintroll,” Snufkin interrupted. “It may be best if you went home for now. I think we rather need a moment to ourselves.”

His tone was kind, but Moomintroll was certain Snufkin had never been so upset with him before. It made his whole chest turn cold, as if the Groke were standing right in his shadow.

He tried to think of something to say, something smart or winning or at the very least the start of an apology. Before he could, Snorkmaiden seized Snufkin by the arm, dragging him away.

Moomintroll stood amidst the shards of glass, feeling as though he had broken quite a lot of things at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I want from season 2 of Moominvalley is a scene where these three are forced to hang out together and it's ridiculously awkward.


	5. In which creatures are set free, Mrs Fillyjonk’s romantic life is of great interest, and there is a frank discussion of feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long one! Sheesh, I didn't realise how uneven the chapters were until I went back to neaten them up.
> 
> Probably obvious from the chapter name list, but warning for alcohol use here. Hey, they _are_ Finnish.

It was only when they reached the ocean that they remembered the butterflies they were carrying. Snorkmaiden had been too angry, and Snufkin simply had far too much to think about.

So it was a fairy curse. Or, something of that ilk. He had hoped it would be a comfort to know exactly what had been done, but he knew fine well fairy magic was some of the trickiest to undo. After a fairy cast a spell, it lived out in the world with a fierce little will of its own. Such a spell was stubborn, and would only be undone once it was satisfied.

This spell, it seemed, was barely even interested in Snufkin and Snorkmaiden themselves. It was tied to Moomintroll, sure as a bow in a little beast’s tail, and so he was the only one who could undo it.

Normally, he would find this assuring. Moomintroll was reliable and far cleverer than he seemed, and overall a splendid fellow. In any normal circumstances, there were nobody he would trust more to break a fairy’s spell on him.

Yet this spell had tangled itself in something the three of them had managed to drown quite deep. If brought to the surface, it would thrash and struggle and drag them all down.

Perhaps Little My was right. This would be one day after another, and then another, and then another.

“What are you thinking about?” Snorkmaiden asked, untying her jar from her hip.

“Bows in tails,” he answered in a mumble. Snorkmaiden glanced at him and then tutted. She held up her jaw, peering in it at the fluttering mass of butterflies within.

“What do you suppose we should do with these?” she said dully. Clearly the excitement of their game had been blunted as badly for her as it had for him.

“Set them free, I think,” he said, shucking off his belt and placing his own jar of butterflies on the sand. “I don’t think they were supposed to be in those woods anyway. And they probably know how to get home better than we do.”

“Should we count them?” she asked. Snufkin smiled down at the jar as he began turning the lid.

“I’m rather not in the mood for games now, are you?”

Snorkmaiden sighed, sitting down next to him and taking her jar in her lap.

“No, not really.”

Snufkin nodded and glanced over at her.

“On three?” he asked. She nodded. Snufkin counted, and on three they twisted their jars open, pulling off the lids. The butterflies rushed out, the sky filling quickly with their twinkling little shapes. Some of them large and bright, others tiny and dull, but all rising and rising in dizzy little circles, making a tornado up to the clouds about. All of them different but at that moment, seeming like one creature.

The moment was over quickly, and they began to disperse. Some brave butterflies following the sea, the more timid fluttering back inland, others just going higher and higher until they vanished to nothing at all.

Snufkin watched them go, feeling a strange melancholy. He supposed freeing creatures always felt like this, no matter how little you knew them or how better off they were afterwards. It was why it was best not to think of anyone as yours.

He wished for his pipe, and the strongest herb he owned. Yet that was in his tent. And all of his tobacco he’d given away, and all of his herbs had went to Mamma for baking.

“What now?” he muttered, almost to himself.

Snorkmaiden looked over at him.

“I think,” Snorkmaiden said, and pulled out the bottle she’d gotten from the fairy, “we both deserve a drink.”

****

“Mammmaaaaaaa!”

It was his second attempt at running home in horrible tragic distress. The first time, he’d went back to Moominhouse. All the way home, he thought about what a horrible mess he’d made. He thought over and over about how easily he could have just avoided all of it by telling them about the Passer-by, but then he would have had to admit she was a little bit right – he _was_ getting muddled up. He would have to tell them how he was feeling the wrong things for the wrong people, and then Snorkmaiden would cry and Snufkin would get uncomfortable and they wouldn’t be able to be friends again, and Moomintroll could think of nothing worse than that.

With that going around and around in his head, he had worked himself into a good state to sob into his mother’s fur, but he’d returned to an empty kitchen. Little My, lounging in the chandelier, had thrown an apple core at his head and told him that Mamma had went to Mrs Fillyjonk’s for tea.

So he’d had to walk all the way _there_ and work himself into _an even greater state,_ and everything was just so horrible and all he wanted was his Mamma to come and take it all away.

“Oh dear,” was Mamma’s only response when he hurled himself wailing through Mrs Fillyjonk’s front door, treading dirt on the freshly-steamed carpe. He blundered past Mrs Fillyjonk’s coffee table, ignoring the splash and crash as he bumped it over with his hip, and threw himself on Moominmamma.

“Mamma!”

“I had a feeling this would happen today," she said, wrapping her arms around him.

“Urgh! Moominmamma, does this child do anything but cry?” Mrs Fillyjonk cried.

“Of course he does. But it is a fond hobby of his,” Moominmamma replied, patting the back of her son’s head.

“Mamma!” Moomintroll interrupted. “I made a terrible mistake, and now Snufkin is upset and Snorkmaiden is angry and I’m a dreadful little Moomin who –“

“Sssh, ssh, sssh,” she said, and pulled back, placing both hands on his cheeks. “And we will talk _all_ about it…after you have calmed down. For now, you just spilled Mrs Fillyjonk’s tea.”

Moomintroll sniffed and glanced behind him. He’d done more than spill – the teapot had quite shattered, along with the little teacups. Mrs Fillyjonk glowered at him, arms folded.

“Oh, oh, this is all I do,” he said, because of course he’d just made an even bigger mess right away. “I just –“

“And I am sure you will buy Mrs Fillyjonk a teapot she likes even more at the market, because, even if you’re a little clumsy, you’re a responsible and kind young Moomintroll. And when you do, you can enjoy giving a present. Won't that be lovely?” Moominmamma continued, still very calm. “But for now, why won’t you go fetch Misabel and help her clean up the mess?”

“Misabel?” Moomintroll repeated. “She’s _here_?”

He glanced around. Come to think of it, there was no longer plastic on all the furniture. And while Mrs Fillyjonk was angry at him, she had not immediately began cleaning it up.

“Of course, dear. In the kitchen, preparing us some lovely desserts,” she said, and then stepped back. “Run along and fetch her now, before the stain sets.”

Moomintroll wiped his eyes, too confused to argue, and headed towards Mrs Fillyjonk’s kitchen. It was easy to find. Mrs Fillyjonk had forced a map on him before he went, muttering darkly about not wanting such a clumsy child wandering willy-nilly. The kitchen was room number 4, just down a short flight of stairs and around a corner, in what Mrs Fillyjonk’s map rather grandly described as ‘The Dragonfly Wing’.

Moomintroll would have figured out it was where Misabel was even without the map, anyway. All he needed to do was follow the greatest source of mess and noisy.

“Misabel?” he called, voice still quite snotty. “Misabel? Are you there?”

He tried to open the door, but it immediately got stuck on a sticky heap of tapioca on the other side. There were plates piled from the sink to the ceiling, all of them tottering to and fro. Amid it all toddled little Misabel, sweeping the dirt back and forth in circles, humming a little song to herself.

Moomintroll pushed at the door, eventually managing to shove the tapioca far enough he could wiggle through the gap.

“Misabel? Aren’t you supposed to be making pudding?”

Misabel jumped, dropping the broom. A cockroach immediately scuttled out from under a pile of tissues, seized it, and dragged it under the fridge. Misabel paid it no mind.

“Ah, yes, the pudding…how forgetful of me,” she said, and dragged the ice box open. She pulled out two pretty little cakes, wrapped in plastic. Notecards on each read ‘ _Misabel: serve later, do not touch otherwise. Filly.’._

“Hm. Now for a tray…”

She began tugging at a tray in the tower of dishes. Moomintroll scrambled forwards, grabbing the tower of dishes with both paws.

“Woah! Okay, okay, how about one from elsewhere?” he said, straining with the effort of not letting Misabel be crushed to death by a tower of porcelain.

“Madame likes the green tray best,” Misabel said, insistently pulling on the tray wedged with a single teacup on top, and an inverted egg-cup on the bottom. Moomintroll put himself between Misabel and the dishes, keeping them both in place.

“Urgh, just! Forget the pudding, okay?” Moomintroll said. “Good grief, when was the last time you cleaned this kitchen?”

“Madame cleaned it before Mrs Moomin arrived,” Misabel said proudly. “She always ensures the house is spotless for guests.

Colour him pink, even Little My could not make such a disastrous mess in such a short time! Misabel had truly become an even greater menace than ever. It were a miracle Mrs Fillyjonk had not stuffed her into a plastic bag and thrown her into the river by now.

“Well, forget all that. Mamma sent me to fetch you – there’s been a spill.”

“Ah, I see,” she replied, turning around (very very slowly). “I will fetch the dustpan.”

She took a few more steps, tapioca dripping from the back of her dress and adding to the mess on the floor. She slipped and fell on it, muttering only ‘Oh woe’, before getting back up. This would take an _age_.

“No, oh, oh, Misabel, no,” Moomintroll interrupted, trying to unfold the Fillyjonk map with one paw, keeping the plates in place with the other, “It’s marked on here, I’ll get it! Really! It’s no trouble at all.”

Misabel fell in the tapioca again with a _splat_ and a gloomy _oh dear._

For goodness’ sake. This was not how crying to one’s mother was supposed to go at _all_.

****

“Is this safe to drink?” Snorkmaiden asked, turning the bottle in her paws. “Like, it’s from a fairy, innit?”

She couldn’t read a lick of the label – it was all in wiggly letters she’d never seen before – so she had no idea. She’d never even encountered a fairy outside of a storybook before. They were rather disappointing in real life.

“May I take a look?” Snufkin said, offering his paw. Snorkmaiden shrugged, handing it over.

“I just don’t much fancy being trapped in a fairy court forever, forced to attend endless balls every night,” she said, and then tapped a paw to her chin thoughtfully. “Ooh, well, I suppose it wouldn’t be too bad, if the fairy was tall and charming. But spending eternity with _that_ little rat would be just dreadful!”

“Well, you’re in luck,” Snufkin said, inspecting the back of the bottle. “This it Too-tickitti wine, not fairy wine. Which would explain the size – they’re not known for their measly portions of alcohol. Completely safe to drink. Aside from the usual concerns, that is.”

“You can read that?” Snorkmaiden asked, surprised.

“I picked up a little Too-Tickittiriki last time I went across the Celtic sea,” he said, pulling out the cork. Snorkmaiden huffed – of course he could read it. Wise, globe-trotting Snufkin, who’d seen everything and knew everything and always brought back the most _fascinating_ stories in spring.

“We haven’t any glasses,” he remarked mildly. Snorkmaiden snatched the bottle back from him and took a swig.

“I think we’re a bit beyond worrying about each other’s germs,” she said, “don’t you?”

He sighed, fur as murky grey as a storm cloud. Snorkmaiden resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The melancholy was rather annoying, when what he should be was as angry as she was. It would feel good, the two of them getting angry together, but being angry next to someone so sad just made her feel like a brat.

“Oh, just have a drink, you old tramp,” she said, shoving the bottle towards him.

****

Moominmamma and Mrs Fillyjonk were deep in discussion again when Misabel and Moomintroll finally dug themselves out of the pile of dishes.

“There you two are. It sounds like you were having fun in there,” Moominmamma said, eyes twinkling the way they did when she was trying not to laugh. Moomintroll grumbled and picked a shard of porcelain out of his fur.

“Ah, Misabel!” Mrs Fillyjonk said, expression brightening up as she caught sight of Misabel. “Just in time. Sweep up those shards and make a start on the carpet stain.”

“As Madame commands…” Misabel said, as sadly as ever, although Moomintroll swore for a second she smiled.

“Misabel! Not in front of guests!” Mrs Fillyjonk replied, giggling, but that couldn’t be right. Moomintroll had never once saw Mrs Fillyjonk _giggle_.

Misabel began sweeping up the shards of teapot, somehow managing to spread the stain in the process.

“No, no, no, that is not right at all!” Mrs Fillyjonk said, standing with a silly ‘ _Harrumph_ ’.

“I suppose it isn’t,” Misabel replied, hiding a smile in her paw. “Would Madame be so kind as to show her poor lowly maid the correct way?”

Mrs Fillyjonk tutted and knelt down beside her, reaching over to guide Misabel’s paws with her own.

“I suppose if I must,” she said with an exaggerated sigh. “Now, the first thing one must do in such an incident…”

Moomintroll gawked at the pair of them, completely bewildered.

“Darling,” Moominmamma said quietly, picking her handbag up from behind the sofa. “I think we should go. It will be getting dark soon.”

“Uh, right,” Moomintroll said. Moominmamma made her goodbyes to Mrs Fillyjonk, who didn’t even look up. Outside, the sky was turning crimson, the crickets beginning to sing. It sounded a little like Snufkin’s newest spring tune –

Oh dear. The lump in his throat was back. He twisted his tail between his paws, tugging out fur.

“Mamma –“

“Misabel seems rather happy in her new home, doesn’t she?” Moominmamma said suddenly. “As far as one can tell with her.”

“What? I - I suppose so,” Moomintroll said, looking up at Mamma curiously. “I don’t understand, though. Misabel isn’t a good maid…and she doesn’t even like cleaning! Mrs Fillyjonk _hates_ mess and loves cleaning.”

It didn’t make a lick of sense. Mrs Fillyjonk actually seemed to be _enjoying_ Misabel’s terrible maid skills. And Misabel had seemed to be enjoying being scolded, of all things! Perhaps he simply understood nothing about this world, Moomintroll thought broodily, glowering down at Mrs Fillyjonk’s silly house-map. As he did, something occured to him.

“Wait, Misabel doesn’t live there at all!” he said, gesturing at the map. “She doesn’t even have a bedroom. Look, there’s only one.”

Was poor Misabel stuck sleeping in that messy old kitchen? Or in some dark basement? He was not her biggest fan, but if that were the case they should certainly bring her back to Moominhouse.

“Well, I expect they share it, dear, all things considered,” Moominmamma said.

“Huh? Does Mr Fillyjonk not find the arrangement a bit odd?” he said, trying to imagine what it would be like if Pappa and Mamma had a maid in a cot in their room. He wasn’t exactly the worldliest troll in the valley, but even he knew that a married couple needed their own space.

“I doubt he has much of an opinion on the matter,” Mamma replied. “I don’t believe Mrs Fillyjonk had been in touch with her husband for some years. He’s probably off in the city with that young lady he met.”

Moomintroll stared at her, and then back at the map, and then something clicked into place in his head.

“Oh,” he said, reeling. “But her name…”

“Mm, well, Fillyjonks aren’t really allowed to stop being a _Mrs_ once they start,” Moominmamma said, opening the door to Moominhouse and setting her handbag down. “They rather think that the first love should always be the last. Though that is rarely the case for any creature.”

“But Mrs Fillyjonk is so…” Moomintroll searched for the word. “Proper! She’s so _strict_ about how everything should be done. And this is…”

It would be rude to say _improper_ , Moomintroll knew, but by most standards it rather was. Of course, it didn’t bother _him_. It just wasn’t how things were normally done, and some people could get rather prickly about that sort of thing.

Moominmamma chuckled.

“Yes, and that meant she wasted a long time trying to do things properly. Even though it was making her terribly unhappy,” she said, starting to take vegetables out of the icebox. Moomintroll watched her, as she began to peel and chop onions.

“The biggest problem, I believe, was that she didn’t even know she was unhappy.”

To not even realise you were unhappy? Some of his surprise must have shown on his face because Mamma glanced over and smiled at him.

“That can happen,” she said, putting a pot of water on the stove to boil. “Sometimes people get used to being unhappy. It’s a terrible thing. Much like how a fish won’t see the water around them, someone who is persistently unhappy no longer notices it. They just swim in it, thinking that this is the only way life can be.”

She poured some pasta into the pot, sprinkling salt into the water.

“And now she is doing things a different way. It is not ‘correct’, and some unkind people will try to tell her as much. But she is much happier for it,” she concluded, turning and wiping her paws on her apron.

Moomintroll wasn’t sure what to say, but he didn’t want to cry any more. Moreover, he didn’t want to be pitied, or told he was a very good and lovely Moomintroll who hadn’t done anything wrong at all. He had made a mistake and hurt two people he cared about very much. Now he was calm, that much was very clear.

Mamma nudged him with her shoulder.

“Dear, why don’t you chop some tomatoes,” she said. “I think you’re old enough to be learning a bit of cooking here and there.”

Oh dear. He hadn’t cooked since he’d put gunpowder in pancakes.

“Do men need to learn to cook?” he asked.

"Nobody needs to, but anyone can want to," she said, giving him a smile. "I personally think it's a fine skill for a young man to have."

Moomintroll stepped up and took one of Mamma’s kitchen knives, letting her show him to handle it safely, and how to begin chopping tomatoes for pasta sauce. It was easier than he expected it to be, when he wasn’t letting his emotions run away with him.

They chopped vegetables in companionable silence, the only sound the music from Pappa’s crackly old radio.

“Mamma?”

“Hm?”

“I think Snufkin and Snorkmaiden’s dilemma is my fault,” he said. “I – there was a fairy, and I think she did something to prove a point to me…”

He trailed off. He found he still couldn’t bring himself to say _why_ the fairy had done it. Moominmamma only nodded.

“I see.”

“And worse, I didn’t tell them. And they’re very upset with me for that,” he continued, greatly ashamed to admit it.

“It’s not an unreasonable thing to be upset over,” Moominmamma said, but there was no judgement in her tone. “I think they both love you too much to be upset with you forever, though. As long as you apologise properly.”

Moomintroll expected further questions, but she didn’t ask what the fairy was trying to teach him, or why. Instead Mamma just quietly stirred the pasta, giving him a silence he found he quite needed.

It would be a good moment, Moomintroll realised, to talk to her. To _tell_ her. He was safe and he was loved, and she had went out of her way to make sure he knew that. It shouldn’t be frightening.

If there ever was a time to tell her, it was now.

He breathed in. It shouldn’t be frightening.

“Mamma?”

“Yes dear?”

And yet it was. It was horribly frightening. It may well _always_ be.

His nerve failed him.

“I love you terribly.”

“I know, dear,” she said, putting an arm around his shoulders. “And I love you no matter what.”

****

“Snufkin, let me go, I’m going for a swim!”

Snufkin had been attempting to hold Snorkmaiden back from throwing herself in the ocean for what felt like the better part of an hour. He normally wouldn’t interfere, but she’d managed to drink a lot of the Too-tikkitti wine in a very short time, and he didn’t fancy her chances of staying safe.

“Perhaps later, once you’re more yourself,” he said.

“But that’s the problem,” she said, finally consenting to be steered away from the water. “Snorks can’t swim, you know. We just sink. I’ve always thought it would be wonderful to try…”

“Later, later,” he assured her. Although privately he wasn’t sure it was wise to try and swim without _knowing_ how, regardless of what shape one was in. “And I’m sure a snork could swim, with the right help. Perhaps you could ask Moominmamma to make you a life jacket, when we get back to normal.”

Snorkmaiden snorted, taking another drink of wine.

“ _If_ we ever get back to normal!”

“I’m sure we will,” Snufkin said desperately. Snorkmaiden sat down, huffing. For a second Snufkin dared to think she’d calmed down, and then she went off again.

“Whenever this kind of things happens, it’s always Moomintroll!” Snorkmaiden blurted out, gesturing so wildly with the bottle of wine that Snufkin feared she would end up hurling it into the sea. “I’ve never known a troll be such a magnet for trouble! Don’t you think? It’s ridiculous. It’s – it’s _unfair_ , is what it is!”

Her entire face was as red as the wine, hair sticking up in all directions. Snufkin couldn’t remember the last time he’d made such a spectacle of himself.

“Snufkin!” she shouted. “Don’t you think it’s absurd?”

“Of course it is,” he agreed. “I just don’t see the use in going on and on about it.”

“Of course _you_ don’t,” she said, slopping wine down her shirt. Snufkin didn't know what she meant by that, but he leaned over and took the wine from her paw. With a sigh, she rubbed her paw against her forehead.

“Oh dear,” she said, swaying in place. “I feel like I’ve barely had anything, and I’m sloshed.”

“Funny, I feel like I’ve drank gallons and I’m barely tipsy,” he said, taking another drink. “Snork tolerance is nothing to laugh at. How do you ever manage to get drunk at parties?”

She tutted at him.

“I make an effort,” she said. “How do _you_ always manage to stay sober, lightweight?”

“I restrain myself.”

“ _I restrain myself_ ,” she repeated in a whiny voice. “Honestly. Listen to yourself.”

“I am,” he said flatly.

They looked at each other a second and then Snorkmaiden began giggling, and Snufkin couldn’t help but join in, and then soon they were both laughing. The sort of noisy, ripping laughs that gave you a tummy-ache afterwards, that can only come about when you realise the absurdity of something all at once. Every time they started to calm down, they would look at one another – that is, look at each other – and then they would start laughing again, louder and more helpless than last time.

“Oh, seeing myself in that big old hat!”

“My shirt tucked in!”

“My fur uncombed!”

“My _eyebrows_ plucked!”

They were so insensible that the other creatures of the beach departed, muttering about rowdy youth and public drunkenness. By the time they calmed down, the sun had set, and the first stars of the night began to gleam through the clouds.

“Oh dear, oh dear dear dear,” Snufkin said, picking his hat up from where it had fallen in the sand. “We are a mess.”

“And it’s Moomintroll’s fault,” she said, but with much less venom than before.

“Well, I’m not sure that’s fair,” he said. “It was the fairy. And he couldn’t have known we were both feeling so rotten – we didn’t say anything either.”

“Oh _honestly_. You two will not hear a bad word about the other,” she said, shaking her head. “It would be sweet if it weren’t so annoying.”

“He wouldn’t say a bad word about you either,” Snufkin argued. Moomintroll wouldn’t say a bad word about anyone. It was one of his most admirable traits.

“Oh, I know,” she said, sighing. “But he will roll his eyes, won’t he? Or tut, or ignore me, or…”

She trailed off, taking refuge in another gulp of wine. She swallowed and wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve, leaving a long red wine stain across the cotton. She looked rather miserable again.

“And oh, the awful thing is, I know I do that to _him_ as well.”

Snufkin searched for something comforting to say,

“I suppose that’s just men and women are,” he managed eventually. It wasn’t an opinion he was particularly convinced of, but it was what everybody else said. And it wasn’t as though _he_ could understand it, after all.

“Oh, that’s what they say…but…well, it _used_ to feel fun,” she said. “When we were younger. Having a tiff would feel remarkably exciting and grown-up. But it was a game then, mammas and pappas and all that…”

“And now?”

Snorkmaiden sighed.

“It’s no fun at all, Snufkin. Not in the least,” she said. “It feels like we spend so much time time trying to be a couple that we have completely forgotten how to be friends. A-and I miss being his friend, Snufkin, I really do.”

She hiccupped and fell silent for a second, dabbing at her eyes.

“And I know lately I’m just an obstacle –“

Snufkin looked up, alarmed.

“An obstacle?”

“Well, of course. I’m not daft. I know I just get in Moomintroll’s way while he’s trying to get to _you_ ,” she said, drawing a pattern in the sand with a finger. It looked like a little snork. She swept it away with her paw and then curled up, passing the bottle across to him.

He didn’t know what to say to that. He would, quite desperately, like to honestly assure her that wasn’t the case. Yet at the same time, Snufkin knew that he had been introducing himself into a story in which he had no place, complicating the whole thing from top to bottom. He was rather meant to be a transient character – to dip in and then out of other people’s stories, offering advice or company, but never for long. He wasn’t supposed to get attached.

Snorkmaiden sighed, resting her chin on her paws.

“It just - I feel as though I’m very inconsequential sometimes,” she said. “Rather a lot, lately. It’s no fun, you know, not being important.”

“Moomintroll thinks very highly of you,” he said weakly. Snorkmaiden gave him a wry smile.

“He doesn’t come rushing to see me on the first day of spring, though, does he?” she said. “Nor does he catch me dragons in glass jars, or watch me from his window and sigh. And…well, he’s never called you _my_ name, has he?”

Snufkin pulled the brim of his hat low.

“I didn’t think so,” she said. “And don’t try to pretend you’re not a little pleased. Your fur is turning gold again.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” he said, mortified.

“C’mon, don’t be. Anyone would be pleased someone lo –“

“Snork fur is just terribly sensitive,” he interrupted hastily. “It changes at the slightest feeling.”

She looked at him for a second, and then laughed.

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Pardon?”

“It doesn’t. If you don’t feel much of anything, it just stays white,” she explained patiently.

“But…you have such extravagant shows of emotion, and you’re white all the time.”

“Indeed,” she said.

Snufkin didn’t know what to say to that, he just sat with his mouth agape. He felt terribly stupid. Snorkmaiden had been pretending harder than anyone, and he hadn’t spotted it. He’d just assumed she started and ended with who she pretended to be, with no greater depth than that. What a loutish thing to think!

“Oh, I’ve went and brought the mood down _again_!” she said. “I’m no fun at all, am I? This is exactly why one must pretend!”

“No, Snorkmaiden, I’m very sorry…I should have noticed you felt so horrid,” he said. “I’m a lousy excuse for a friend –“

That made her pause. She stopped, looking at him a bit oddly.

“Friend?”

“…Well…yes?” Snufkin said, uncertainly. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

The look she gave him at that made Snufkin want to curl up in on himself and never be seen again.

“When we were children, maybe, but…oh, Snufkin, we haven’t spent time together in years.”

“Well…” he said “I suppose not. Yet in my mind time should be no factor here. I meet many people on my travels I know full well I will never cross paths with again. Yet no matter how long it’s been, I think I will still call these people friends. I still have the memories, after all.”

Snorkmaiden stared at him for a second, and for a terrible second Snufkin thought he was going to be told where to go, and then she jerked towards him, catching him in a headlock.

“You!” Snorkmaiden said, ruffling his hair (she must be very drunk to mess up her own hair). “Are a _sweetheart!_ No matter how hard you pretend not to be.”

“I’m not sure about that,” he replied, fighting himself free. Once they were apart, he shuffled along the beach, looking down at his feet. “Regardless, I think you’re exceptional. I am sorry we have all let you forget that.”

“Oh stop.”

“Really. You’re a beautiful, intelligent, charming woman.”

Snorkmaiden laughed.

“Please. Are _you_ trying to sweep me off my feet, now?”

“I think that would be strange,” he said, grinning at her. “Confirmed bachelor that I am.”

She snorted.

“Snufkin,” she said. “I’m not Moomintroll. I know what that _actually_ means.”

“Oh,” Snufkin said, turning a light pink at having given himself away so easily, “I forget you were a traveller like myself, when we were little.”

Snorkmaiden giggled, a funny gleam entering her eyes.

“Do you know the first time you said that, Moomintroll actually went home and asked Moominmamma how, exactly, a bachelor got confirmed?”

“He _didn’t_.”

“He did!” Snorkmaiden said, sounding as though she’d been desperate to tell him this story for _years_. “Mamma just told him not to pry into people’s private lives.”

They dissolved into laughter, this time at something funny rather than something hopeless, and felt much better for it. After they calmed down, Snorkmaiden took a sip of wine and passed him the bottle.

“Moomintroll is _so_ sheltered,” she said. “It’s sweet, but sometimes I wonder if it wouldn’t do him good to leave the valley.”

Snufkin nodded – he’d thought much the same. It was a wonderful thing, to learn how to stand on one’s own two feet. And an even better thing to see the world. Moomintroll deserved to try it some day.

“What happened to your travelling anyway?” he asked. “One day you just settled in Moominvalley and never left.”

“Oh, I don’t know. The Snork set up his workshop and stayed put. So I did too, because I was the Snork’s little sister,” she said. “After that, I was Moomintroll’s girlfriend, and that meant I had to stay put too. But well…I don’t know, _that_ clearly isn’t working, is it?”

She blew a wet raspberry, expression darkening. Snufkin thought for a second, rubbing his chin with a paw.

“Well…” he said. “What would you like to be?”

“I don’t know! That’s the issue!”

She stood up, suddenly greatly incensed.

“You know what, I’ve never even considered it before. I’ve just done as I ought to. I thought that would be enough, but it isn’t working!” she said, stomping her feet. “I’m bored and angry, almost all the time! And not even in a big way. All my feelings are just so dull and little. I’m sick of it. I _wish_ they were bigger, even if they were bad! And I’m not even angry _at_ Moomintroll – he just gives me an excuse to act it!

“What are you angry at, in that case?” Snufkin asked.

“I don’t _know_. It’s so absurd,” she said. “To want something, but not even know what!”

She kicked at the sand and then stumbled. Snufkin clumsily caught her, but she tutted at him and rolled out of his paws, falling face-down onto the beach. She lay there, completely still, and Snufkin could only stare at her.

“Snorkmaiden?” he asked tentatively.

With a groan, she rolled onto her back and pressed her palms into her eyes. She was silent for a long while, and then finally burped.

“Oh, I feel _ill_ ,” she said. He laughed, taking the bottle into his paws – it was almost wholly empty. He drained the last.

“Perhaps we should head back to Moominhouse,” he said.

“We should,” she agreed, taking her paws from her eyes and looking up. “Can we just sit for a moment longer, though? I’m not sure I’m ready yet.”

He nodded. He wasn’t sure he was either.

They would have to go back eventually, but for now he was content to sit and count stars.

****

The first thing Snufkin saw upon waking was himself, sleeping with his head laid back against a large fuzzy white pillow.

For a bewildered second, he was convinced he had went quite mad. And then he spotted the bottle of wine in the sand and everything flooded back. He sat up, leaning over to shake Snorkmaiden’s shoulder.

“Snorkmaiden, wake up. We fell asleep,” he said. Snorkmaiden groaned, throwing an arm over her eyes, and turned over. Snufkin sighed, glancing up at the stars. It didn’t look as though they’d been lying out here too long, but it wouldn’t be wise to stay that much longer. The Groke may well be roaming Moominvalley on such a night. And, everything else aside, the Moomins would worry.

“Snorkmaiden,” he said testily. She sat up woozily, rubbing her face, and then collapsed again.

“Don’t wanna,” she muttered into the sand. Too drunk and too sleepy to make sense.

“Good grief,” he muttered, reaching down to sit her up. He supposed the wise thing to do – what Moominmamma would do – would be to offer her some water and make her some toast. Yet he had no water, and no bread, and the sea water would only worsen the situation.

“Snufkin, do you hate me?” she moaned. Snufkin sighed – this was a question only a drunk person asked.

“Not in the least. I thought we established that,” he said, feeling the awful creep of a hangover in his temples.

“That’s stupid of you,” she said. “If someone was keeping something from me, and they didn’t even want it themselves, I’d hate them…”

She then fell asleep again, dropping against him.

“No, no, Snorkmaiden, we need to –“

She began snoring, drooling from the corner of her mouth. Snufkin rubbed his head.

Well, he supposed it was a good job they had swapped bodies, in a way. He would have never been able to carry Snorkmaiden home in their usual circumstances.

At first, he hefted her up bridal style, but carrying _himself_ in his arms like that was just far too odd, so he settled for shucking her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He wasn’t concerned about hurting her – he knew his own body, and he could be hurled about quite safely without taking much injury. Little My had described him as ‘boneless’ once. He had taken offense, but now he supposed he saw what she meant – he _was_ rather floppy.

Snorkmaiden made a snorting noise as she was adjusted into place.

“Put me _down_ Snork! I’m not a _baby_!” she muttered, giving him a clumsy thump on the back, and then fell asleep again.

With some difficulty, Snufkin managed to retrieve his hat and the empty bottle (for recycling), and started the trek home.

It was a fine night – warm and brisk at the same time, the sky was clear and the insects were singing beautifully. Despite the situation, Snufkin felt his heart lighten. Walking at night were always a delight. The world were never quite so strange and quiet, and many interesting things could be seen if one watched carefully.

Well. Normally. Snorkmaiden’s night vision was simply awful, he could barely see a thing. Was this what it was like for most people, in the dark? It was little wonder so many creatures were averse to it.

Yet not all creatures. There was someone scurrying around ahead of him.

“Sniff?” he asked, astonished. Surely someone as little as Sniff should be tucked into bed at this point? Sniff waved.

“Hullo Snorkmaiden,” he said, and then glanced up at his hat. “Are you and Snufkin still playing that game?”

“Yes, yes,” he replied. He was far too drunk and tired to try and explain it again. “What are you doing up?”

“Little My told me there were special flowers that _only_ showed up at night, and you could make solid gold from the petals!” he said proudly, hands on his hips. “I’m going to make a _fortune_ out of it.”

Oh, he really didn’t have the energy to humour a capitalist tonight. Even one as small and silly as Sniff.

“Well, good luck,” he said, moving off. Sniff followed him, ears twitching.

“What’s wrong with Snufkin?” he asked.

“She – he had too much…”

He glanced at Sniff’s wide-eyed face.

“Raspberry juice.”

“Raspberry juice?”

“Yes,” he said gravely.

Sniff glowered at him, arms folded.

“I’m not stupid, you know. I know he’s drunk,” Sniff said.

“Well, now you know to be careful of it when you’re older,” Snufkin replied. “Can make one terribly sick, enjoying something too much.”

“Well I don’t know about that! I think we can’t have _enough_ of the things we enjoy!” he said, and then laughed. “Ha ha, that’s quite good. Perhaps I can print it on a T-shirt and sell it!”

Snufkin definitely had a headache now.

“There are many things one should take in moderation, even aside from raspberry juice.”

“Like what?”

“Anything one takes from nature, for instance,” Snufkin said. “Material things, one must be very careful of them. People, definitely.”

“ _People?”_ Sniff repeated, aghast.

“Yes. Admiring someone too much is no end of difficulties.”

“You’re in a very funny mood tonight, Snorkmaiden,” he said, nose twitching. “You told me once that we ought to try to admire someone as much as we can.”

“Did I?” Snufkin said wearily. “I must have misspoke. Don’t you have your flower to find, Sniff?”

“Oh! Yes! I almost forgot, haha! Well, have a good night Snorkmaiden! Make sure Snufkin doesn’t drink any more raspberry juice!”

He scampered off, still chatting to himself about business ventures and profits and all that sort of nonsense. Snufkin sighed. At least they were almost home. As soon as he tucked Snorkmaiden in, he would be digging out his old pipe and borrowing Moominpappa’s tobacco, everything else be damned.

All was quiet in Moominhouse upon arrived. The Moomin family had all retired to bed, and even Little My was fast asleep in the chandelier. There was leftover pasta on the stove, with a note from Moominmamma telling them to help themselves. It was a kind gesture, but Snufkin had no appetite and Snorkmaiden would probably struggle to keep it down.

Snorkmaiden grunted and shifted as they ascended the stairs to Moominpappa’s study. There was a pang in his chest as he saw his tent pitched between the bookshelves. All he wanted was to climb in there, close it tight, and go to sleep. Yet he knew it wouldn’t be comfortable any more.

He awkwardly manoeuvred her into the tent. Changing her into his sleep shirt would be too much effort (not to mention strange), so he settled for tugging off her boots and laying a light blanket over her.

Her eyes fluttered open.

“This tent is wretched,” she muttered.

“Well!” he huffed. It wasn’t as though he were house-proud, but this tent _was_ his home. “Thank you for that.”

“It’s just so depressing…” she said. “Oh, I know you don’t like to hold onto things, but…there’s a difference between living frugally and cutting yourself off from everything…don’t you think?”

“Not really,” he said, thrusting a glass of water towards her. “Here, drink some water before you sleep.”

“No. I shan’t,” she said, turning her nose up at it. “I’m not thirsty.”

“You will feel thirsty come morning.”

“If I drink that, I will be _terribly_ sick.”

“You won’t, it’s water.”

“I will! I will! I will _vomit_.”

“It will probably _stop_ you from being sick.”

“No, I will throw up, I will throw up horribly. Don’t you dare suggest otherwise. I know myself better than anyone, Snufkin so –“

“Oh, fine then!” he snapped, giving up and setting the glass aside. “Go to sleep.”

“How could I? I’m very awake,” she said.

“You are not, you were asleep seconds ago!” Snufkin said. Inebriated people were always a special category of frustrating. Snorkmaiden was clearly no exception.

“No. I want to read my book. You don’t own any _books_ Snufkin, it’s so gloomy,” she said, and attempted to get up and out of the tent. She swayed, a paw leaping to her mouth, her throat jumping.

“Oh fine, I’ll fetch you a book,” he said, pushing her back down. “Just don’t move.”

“Okay,” she muttered. “Can I have some water?”

Snufkin breathed in deeply through his nose.

“Just outside the tent,” he said, before heading back down the stairs to Snorkmaiden’s room. It was only then he realised she hadn’t really specified any one book.

He picked up the book he’d began reading and went back upstairs. It wasn’t as though she would stay awake long enough to read more than a page.

“Here,” he said, thrusting it into her paws with a sigh.

“Ooh!” she squealed. “It’s my favourite, how could you tell?”

“It’s the most worn,” he said. “You really do enjoy stories, don’t you?”

“I love them,” she replied, holding the book to her chest with a sigh. “Don’t you?”

“I suppose so. It’s just that few are relevant to people like me,” he replied. “I started that one, though.”

Snorkmaiden looked up, surprised.

“It’s interesting…I was rather expecting nothing but romance,” he said. “Yet it isn’t, really. The protagonist spends far more time out-witting and fighting pirates than she does courting any of them.”

She looked down at the book in her paws as though it were the very first time she’d seen it.

“I’ll let you get some rest,” he said, leaving her uncharacteristically quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Moominmamma voice] Darling. My beautiful son I love more than the moon and the stars. You need to _chill the fuck out._
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to every drunk idiot I've ever had to put to bed. Also to every person who has ever had to put me to bed when I was a drunk idiot. We have all been both of them at least once.
> 
> I accidentally got myself invested in Fillyjonk/Misabel writing this. Their ship name would be Fillybel and I think that's adorable.


	6. In which there are hang-overs and literary debates, Moomintroll finally listens to some advice, and decisions are made.

“Ooh, how can one feel so thirsty when one has been drinking _all night_?” Snorkmaiden moaned, feeling as though she’d been ran over by a bull, and the been dragged all the way home hanging onto its tail. Moominmamma chuckled from the sink.

“A great mystery,” Moominmamma said, placing a cup of something warm and fragrant in front of her.

“Oh, is this a wonderful cure from your grandmother’s book?” Snorkmaiden asked.

“No dear, it’s camomile,” she said, and squeezed her shoulder, “There’s no witch in the world clever enough to brew a cure for this, unfortunately.”

Snorkmaiden deflated.

“They could try,” she murmured, rubbing her head. Mumriks got so awfully _sweaty_ , and having wine leaving her system didn’t help. Moominmamma laughed.

“They’ve tried plenty. My grandmother tried every Sunday morning without fail,” she said. “Would you be able to stomach some breakfast? Perhaps some oatmeal and berries?”

Snorkmaiden’s stomach lurched, though whether with hunger or nausea she couldn’t tell.

“I can try,” she said, and then because Moomintroll hadn’t made an appearance yet: “Where are the boys?”

She wasn’t sure she wanted to see Moomintroll, exactly. She wasn’t sure _what_ she wanted. Perhaps that was the entire problem.

“Pappa and Moomintroll left early this morning, for a spot of fishing,” Moominmamma replied, piling oats into a pan and pouring creamy milk over them.

“They went _fishing_?” she said, sitting up. “When Snufkin and I are like this?”

“I know it sounds odd, but I rather thought some father-son time was in order,” she said. “And I sent Snufkin out to harvest some of the vegetables in the garden.”

“Oh, are you making something?”

“Oh, nothing in particular. He was just brooding terribly and getting on my nerves,” she said, washing the fresh berries in the sink. She looked over her shoulder and gave Snorkmaiden a wink. “It’s best to put men to work when they’re like that.”

Snorkmaiden laughed. She could just imagine Snufkin, hung-over and bad-tempered by the window and trying to pretend he wasn’t either of those things. Her amusment quickly faded as memories of the previous night coming back in little trickles and splashes. None of them made her feel good.

“I think I said some very silly and unkind things to him last night,” Snorkmaiden muttered. Moominmamma nodded.

“As we all do, sometimes, dear,” she said.

“And I said some things about myself I’d rather have kept to myself…” she continued, melting into the table. Moominmamma placed a paw between her shoulders and a bowl of oatmeal in front of her.

“And sometimes that’s exactly what we need,” she said. “Eat up, dear. You’ll feel better with a full stomach.”

Snorkmaiden breathed in and made a valiant effort to do just that, stomach fighting her all the way. Periodically, she paused to bury her face in her hands or stare woozily at the table-top.

“I will never touch any of that awful stuff again!” she declared (or at least tried to - it came out as more of a pitiful groan). Moominmamma nodded, doing her best to pretend she wasn’t amused, but Snorkmaiden could tell she was laughing behind her eyes a little. Embarrassed, Snorkmaiden picked up her book to at least pretend to read it.

She felt enormously ridiculous for whining at Snufkin to fetch her something to read. He had already spent so long trying to tuck her into bed and get some water down her. And she basically looked at the first page and then passed out.

Yet it surprised her, that he picked this one in particular.

It was a silly book, really. All about a girl who got lost at sea. On the way, she learned of a magic treasure that could instantly transport her home and ended up butting heads with pirates on her quest to find it.

A long time ago, when she was a little girl and still travelling on the Snork’s back, she had been sitting bored and lonely on a fountain. The Snork was working on a new invention, and Snorkmaiden had been told to sit and wait for him to finish. A kindly hemulen had seen her looking so bleak and given her a toffee apple and this book. It had been the first thing she owned, all her own. It made her so excited, she had carried it about with her for weeks, long after she finished reading it.

Now, she had many things all her own. Yet, none felt as exciting as this little old paperback. How strange! Perhaps she was due a clear-out…

“Hm?” Moominmamma asked, ears flicking. “Dear, do you hear that?”

Snorkmaiden sat up, broken out of her reverie. She listened carefully and picked it up: a sound of tearing, and little cackling.

“Little My,” they both said at once, and stood to go see what mischief she’d gotten herself into.

“Urgh, she _better_ not be in my room again!” Snorkmaiden huffed. The fact she slept in Pappa’s study at the moment was neither here nor there – My knew fine well she was not allowed in there! Not after the little menace ate her favourite blusher.

Unfortunately, the nearer they got to the door, the more apparent it became that those noises were coming from Snorkmaiden’s room.

“My, you better not be using my make-up!” Snorkmaiden asked, opening the door. She almost let out a little shriek as she saw the mess – pages and shreds of paper everywhere, scattered from wall to wall. Amongst them all sat Little My, sitting with one of her books between her legs, tearing out pages with great glee.

“My! What on earth are you _doing_?” Moominmamma scolded. Little My tossed another page behind her.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m fixing our problem.”

“ _How_?” Snorkmaiden asked, more baffled than angry.

Little My tutted, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t you get it? It because of all these stupid stories. Have you ever noticed that they’ve got the same boring old ending?” she said, flicking to the back of the book. “In almost every one of these, all the women just end up getting married and having children. And then after that, no matter how interesting she was before, she’s boring as dirt. _If_ there’s even an after that!”

She tore out another page, balling it up and tossing it behind her.

“So, I’m gonna rip out all the boring bits,” she said, folding one offending page into an origami dragonfly and tossing it across the room. “The interesting bits I’m gonna keep and rearrange into something _better_.”

“You can’t _do_ that,” Snorkmaiden said, aghast. “You can’t just change things around as you like!”

“Why not?” Little My said, ripping out a page and, after a second, put it on a neat pile beside her, rather than tossing it away. “Who’s going to stop me?”

“W-well,” she stuttered. She supposed nobody could, really, it wasn’t as though there were rules against changing a story after it were written. “I suppose nobody, but it’s just not done! These stories are written by real authors – very clever, professional men! They all have university degrees and write from mahogany desks and have many important and clever ideas to share!”

“Ha! Well who says they know any better than _me_?” Little My said, tossing a few more balled up pages behind her. “If they were such clever blokes, they would have made their stories more interesting! Besides, it’s not like I’m destroying all of them. I’m leaving the ones that _weren’t_ written by men.”

“My, that’s enough!” Moominmamma said, stepping forward with her paws on her hips.

“Yikes! Well, that’s my cue to scram!” she said, seizing the pages under her arm and running off, a few stray scraps of paper following her. Moominmamma sighed after her, catching a strand, before turning back to survey the destruction.

Snorkmaiden stared at them – almost all of her books, reduced to shreds and scraps. Aside from a paltry little pile by the bed. The size of the pile shocked her – was that all there really was? She had never really considered that most of her books had male names on them, but looking at it now, the proportion seemed terribly unfair.

“I’m sorry, dear, that was a dreadful thing of her to do,” Moominmamma said.

Snorkmaiden looked up from the books in her arms and back at the mess. She should feel terrible. In fact, she should weep so horribly about the loss of her beautiful books, just as she once had over the loss of her hair. She should weep and wail (remaining very pretty the entire time, of course), but she felt not even a spark of sadness to stoke.

In fact, looking at the books remaining and the shreds across the floor, she felt nothing but relief.

“It would make good kindling for a bonfire, wouldn’t it?” she said after a long moment. Feeling strangely at peace, she knelt to gather up the loose pages. Snorkmaiden couldn’t see Moominmamma’s face, but judging by her silence, she was stunned.

“It would indeed,” Moominmamma said finally. “That’s a splendid idea. I’ll help you tidy this all up.”

****

It was a great delight to work in nature, no matter what shape you happened to be at that time. Snufkin was pleased to find that handling a trowel and pulling up plump onions and turnips out of the ground was just as easy and delightful when he was a snork than when he was a mumrik. His paws and knees were pleasantly covered in dirt, the sun was warm on his back, and the fresh water from the river had washed the hangover away. He took his time, admiring each vegetable as he pulled it out for the unique shape it took, giving each a little word of encouragement before putting it in a crate.

For the first time in the past few days, Snufkin felt like himself enough to hum.

“That’s an odd tune,” a voice said. Snufkin turned to see a too-ticky woman looking at him, the pleasant smile on her face taking the edge off her words.

“Sorry. It’s a new mouth,” he said. “I assume you’re the Moomins’ friend?”

“Aye. One of many,” she said, tilting her head. “And I’m thinking - despite the shape you’re in right now - you’re Snufkin?”

Snufkin laughed.

“Does my reputation really precede me so much?” he asked, turning back to tidy the harvested vegetables into one of Mamma’s crates.

“Afraid so. You’re a hit with the little critters round here,” she said. “One of your bairns mentioned you too.”

He fumbled with a turnip, smacking himself across the nose with it.

“ _Bairn_?” he repeated, steading his grip on the turnip and rubbing his snout.

“Little woodie lad – only just started talking, but half his vocabulary is ‘Snufkinpappa’, as far as I could tell,” the Too-Ticky continued, grinning. Snufkin turned away, trying to act like he was not at all pleased. He needn't have bothered - his fur traitorously turned pink despite his best efforts. Hiding his face in his hat, he put the turnip in the box.

“I think people rather kick up too much of a fuss about me, sometimes,” he said, pushing aside the full crate and fetching another. “I’m nobody interesting. I just show up a bit more infrequently than others, so people get tricked into thinking I’m special.”

The Too-Ticky laughed.

“In my experience, if other people think you’re special, it’s rude to them to tell them otherwise,” she said. “Bit like tossing away a nice present.”

It wasn’t often Snufkin immediately took a shine to people, but he found he rather liked Too-Ticky.

“Are you heading to Moominhouse?” he asked politely.

“Not quite. I’m on the trail of a critter, you see,” she said. “Judging by the state you’re in, I’m guessing you’ve ran into her already.”

“The fairy,” he said grimly. “Yes, we’ve crossed paths. Moomintroll almost caught her the other day, but Little My quite spoiled it.”

“That sounds about right. I got her for a little, but they’re slippery folk, fairies,” she said, shaking her head. “She nicked a bottle of wine from me as well.”

“…Oh,” Snufkin said guiltily. “Well, I think I owe you an apology. We drank it.”

“Aye, did you?” Too-Ticky chuckled, sounding as though this delighted her greatly. “Have a good night, did you?”

“Well…yes, I suppose,” he replied, because it _had_ been fun, really, if a little bittersweet. “It was all just a bit odd.”

“Suppose it would be, trying to enjoy yourself in a borrowed body like that,” she said, folding her arms and hopping up to sit on a crate of vegetables, “Am I to assume there’s a little snorkmaiden running around looking like a snufkin, somewhere?”

“Yes, that’s who I was drinking with, as it happens,” he said, the words tumbling out of him very easily. Perhaps it was because Too-Ticky wasn’t really asking, so it felt less difficult to share. Or maybe it just was because she seemed so familiar somehow.

“I suppose you know her. Or of at least of her,” he continued. “She lives in Moominhouse most of the time, or with her brother the Snork across the woods.”

He gestured behind him vaguely.

“Moomintroll’s beau, from what I hear,” Too-Ticky said. Snufkin paused.

“Yes, I suppose so,” he said. “Although I’m not sure either of them ever quite agreed to it.”

Too-Ticky laughed.

“Aye, well that’s how it goes when you’re as young as you lot are,” she said. “Though that’s not the only rumour going around the critters in the woods, you know.”

Snufkin flushed. He didn’t really want to know what the other rumour was. He just hummed vaguely and pulled out a bunch of carrots, wiping away clumps of soil with his paw.

“Would you like a wee hand carrying this all back?” she said, glancing about at the many loaded crates. “Even for a snork, this is a mighty lot.”

“Is it?” he asked earnestly, glancing about – he hadn’t been really thinking about it. He’d gotten into such an easy rhythm with harvesting, he’d quite lost track of time. He just assumed Snorkmaiden would be able to handle however much he harvested. Though he supposed while snorks were stronger than mumriks, their strength wasn’t limitless.

“Yes. But I suspect between the two of us we’ll manage,” she said, smiling all the way up to her eyes. Snufkin smiled back awkwardly, suddenly feeling rather young. He always thought of himself as a rather mature creature, but this Too-Ticky made him realise he was not quite a grown-up yet. Even if he had lived as one for a long time. It wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, but it was humbling.

“Thank you, that’s very kind,” he said, stacking a couple of crates together and lifting them experimentally. It wasn’t a far walk back to Moominhouse, but it was a little uphill, and with their burdens, it would be a slow walk.

Too-Ticky pulled a tarp over the remaining crate before picking up the other.

“Think there’s rain coming,” she explained briefly. Snufkin nodded – he thought as much too. He would have warned Moomintroll and his father to taker umbrellas on their fishing trip, but they’d made their escape quite before he’d woken up. It was why he’d been in such a foul mood this morning – he’d been hoping to catch Moomintroll. He was still a little upset, but he really wanted to see him, all the same. Now it seemed as though he were being avoided.

It was understandable enough. Snorkmaiden had rather lost her temper, and he had hardly kept his composure either. What Moomintroll had done had been selfish and stupid. Yet Snufkin had been just as reticent to explain when he thought he were responsible for their switch. Moreover, he had a strong sense Snorkmaiden were in much the same boat.

He shook his head. Oh dear, oh dear, what a mess. If only they all hadn’t gotten so carried away.

“Something on your mind?” she asked, and then at his startled expression, smiled. “I only ask because you’re going burgundy.”

“Oh, I do not like this fur,” he grumbled.

“I suppose you’d get used to it, if you had to,” she said. Snufkin shook his head fiercely. He refused to consider the possibility. He wanted his own body back, and his tent and his mouth-organ and his wandering lifestyle.

“So, wee snufkin, anything you want to tell Too-Ticky?” she asked, so laid-back about it that it was tempting. Snufkin just wasn’t sure how to say any of it. Moreover, much of it was things he shouldn’t say.

He chewed on his lip for a second, and then finally:

“How do you talk about something one shouldn’t say?”

Too-Ticky didn’t even blink, just continued walking.

“Hm. Difficult question, that,” she said. “Suppose it does no good to ask what that something is, does it?”

“No,” he said. “But I think it is something most people involved already understand terribly well.”

“Well,” she said, sagely. “Not everything needs to be said, but some things need to be expressed.”

It was a terrible wise thing to say, and Snufkin didn’t understand it in the least.

Oh, was this what talking to _him_ was like? It was dreadfully unhelpful.

Snufkin thought for a while longer, trying to figure out how to express the idea that had been lurking in the back of his mind all morning.

“We are…at a bit of a crossroads, I think,” he continued, the words forming slowly in his mouth. It felt like every syllable needed to be crafted with great care, as though the slightest slip of the tongue would make it all come crashing down. “I think we cannot return to normal unless we refuse to return to normal.”

Too-Ticky nodded.

“That makes sense.”

“It does?” he asked, surprised.

“Aye, well, what’s normal for most can be a dreadful poison for others,” she said, and then gave him a kind look. “Myself included. I’m guessing you, as well.”

Snufkin suddenly understood why he felt so comfortable with this woman.

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Me as well.”

She smiled at him, saying nothing else. It began to drizzle, but they were both the type to just weather against it without complaint.

“It can be difficult, being folk like us,” Too-Ticky said. “Living freely can be terribly frightening. I think it’s all any of us really want, though.”

“You think so?”

“Aye, I do.”

“…Even when someone _doesn’t_ seem to want to?” he asked in a small voice. Too-Ticky nodded.

“They're usually the people who want to most badly. It's a tricky position to be in, though,” she said.

He hummed, falling silent as he thought about all she had said. Or, in her way, not said.

“So, do you think there’s anything I can do?” he asked finally.

“Perhaps,” she said. “Just know you cannot free someone who isn’t ready for it. Often best to let people come to their own conclusions.”

Snufkin nodded – he knew that. He valued his own freedom enough to know not to impose on anyone else’s.

“But if it’s any consolation,” Too-Ticky said, sidling past him to open the front door to Moominhouse. “I think you’re all ready to move on.”

“Snufkin’s back,” she called. “And he’s brought enough vegetables to last until winter.”

****

Moomintroll had barely been able to sleep, dozing only to be woken by Snufkin and Snorkmaiden barging home late, managing to make a lot of noise while making it clear they were attempting to make very little. He had tried to convince himself to go out and talk to them – to _apologise_ \- but Snufkin had sounded irritated and Snorkmaiden sounded drunk enough to potentially get quite nasty. So he had laid frozen in his bed like a coward, feeling worse and worse by the second.

After he began to hear Snorkmaiden snore from Pappa’s study, he had crept down the stairs, wanting to fix himself some hot milk. If he could just sit and think, perhaps he could figure out what to say to apologise to both of them for behaving so idiotically. Yet it seemed no way to apologise without telling them everything.

Becoming desperate, he had started drafting notes instead. If he were too cowardly to talk to them, he could at least slide a note to each of them. It would be terribly weak of him, but it would at least be better than giving them no apology at all.

He had tried, desperately, until the milk in his cup went cold. None of the notes came out right. He knew he needed to write something cheerful and without sentiment for Snufkin, and something doting and longing for Snorkmaiden, yet they always came out quite the wrong way around. As usual, no matter how he tried, he couldn’t get himself to feel the right way around about the two of them.

At one point, he considered just writing the notes and then putting the names in last, but he couldn’t bring himself to. As soon as he tried to put Snorkmaiden’s name on Snufkin’s note, he heard the little Passer-by laughing in his head. And he knew that was no good, that was the same problem as ever. So for a long time, he just sat staring at them, tearful with anger at himself.

If he were simply clever enough to put things the right way around! Or brave enough to care that they weren't!

After he’d shredded both notes beyond recognition, Pappa found him. And, unfortunately for Moomintroll, he was in one of his Moods.

Moomintroll had tried to ask him about what he should do about Snufkin and Snorkmaiden, starting to feel a bit desperate, but Pappa had just babbled on about the importance of father-son time, and of living as one’s ancestors did. It had been very unhelpful and uncomfortable, but Pappa had been so insistent that Moomintroll had been quite unable to extract himself.

“I’m telling you son, a day on the open sea with your Pappa, that’s what you need! Today, we only follow the fish!” Moominpappa said as they approached the beach. Moomintroll followed him, fishing rod over his shoulder and bait basket slung over his arm.

“I think we get a little spoiled up in that house sometimes,” Pappa said, for about the thirtieth time, as he dragged their equipment onto the fishing boat. “We should live off the land more! As men, we are providers, you know?”

“Snufkin lives off the land…” Moomintroll muttered to himself. Moominpappa didn’t seem to hear him.

“Yes, a day out fishing, that’s the ticket! You’ll feel grand bringing home a big catch for everyone to share – no feeling like it in the world!” he said.

“I’d feel grand with some coffee right now too,” he grumbled.

“Ah, the sea air will wake you up, son,” he said, waving a hand, and then leaned over to untie them from the dock. “And off we go! Beautiful day for it, no chance of rain today. Hoist the mainsail, there’s a good lad.”

Moomintroll got to work as they set sail, hoisting the sail to catch the wind, steering them further out to sea, setting up the rods and sorting the bait. It was a good thing, he thought, to be busy. Yet he wasn’t sure this was what he was meant to be doing right now.

“Haha, yes! Glorious times, immortal deeds!” Moominpappa bellowed from the prow of the boat. “Let’s just follow the wind today, son.”

“I thought we were following the fish?”

“Ah, well, fish always follow the wind! So it’s much the same, you see,” he said.

“Um, of course, Pappa,” he said. He was not convinced that was correct, but he didn’t really want to argue about it. Moominpappa turned and hopped down from the prow, both hands on his hips.

“Ah, yes, this is it,” he said. “Just a Moomin and his son on the open sea! The past few days have been such a lot of fuss and nonsense, it’s good to get back to the things we know and feel comfortable with.”

Moomintroll didn’t think he much liked this fishing trip.

“Has nothing like this ever happened on your adventures?” he asked.

“Oh, we fished plenty on my adventures.”

“No, I mean with Snufkin and Snorkmaiden…”

Moominpappa looked at him, tilting back his hat.

“Oh, nothing like that, no,” he said. “The Muddler spent a while pretending he was the Joxter, but that was just because the Joxter asked him to fill in for him while he took a week-long nap.”

“Snorkmaiden and Snufkin aren’t _pretending_ , they really have swapped!” Moomintroll said, not sure why he was getting so irritated.

“Ah, yes, I understand that well enough,” he said. “Mysterious thing, isn’t it? Perhaps they’ll be back to normal when we get back. Or maybe if you get Snorkmaiden a nice pearl or something to convey your remorse, it’ll all go back to normal.”

Moomintroll pricked his finger on his hook.

“Ow!”

“You alright there, son?”

“Yes, yes, but…what do you mean, my remorse?”

“Well, I assume you upset her, son,” Pappa said plainly, casting out his line. “That's usually the root of these things. Now, even if you don’t understand what you’ve done, best to just swallow your pride and apologise.”

Moomintroll mulled over this as he baited his own hook, casting it out. He knew fine well he owed Snorkmaiden an apology, but surely the spell wouldn’t be broken just with that. He and Snorkmaiden _always_ owed each other apologies lately. How often could one apologise before wondering if there should be such frequent cause for it?

“I need to apologise to Snufkin as well…” he muttered.

“Ah, well, friendships between men aren’t so complicated,” Pappa said with a wave of his paw. “Just let that sort itself out.”

He fell silent for a second, and then continued, tone odd and heavy.

“That’s how this whole mess came about, I’m guessing?”

Moomintroll froze in place.

“What do you mean?” he said, voice coming out a bit more high-pitched than he intended.

“Well, just you spend rather more time with your friends than with your little lady companion,” he said. “Oh, I know as a lad it’s much more fun to be getting into mischief with your friends, but women can be awfully sensitive about being neglected. You’re getting to an age where you need to be mindful of that.”

Oh, Pappa really had no idea! Moomintroll probably should be relieved, but it just made him want to hurl his rod into the sea and scream.

It was just like how Pappa never even seemed to remember who Snufkin was, always asking where he was running off to every first day of spring, and then watching Snufkin depart every autumn with little more than an ‘Odd chap’, as though it didn’t matter at all. As though he had no idea what made Moomintroll feel so terribly lonely every winter.

There was not noticing and there was _not paying attention,_ and lately Moomintroll wasn’t sure which applied to Pappa.

“Oh, I know women can be complicated!” Pappa continued, not noticing how angry Moomintroll was getting. “But it makes life much simpler if one keeps them happy.”

“I wouldn’t let Little My hear you talking like that,” Moomintroll said. It was not what he wanted to say, but what he wanted to say would be much ruder. “It’s completely old-fashioned, you know.”

“Ha, is it?” Moominpappa said, and then laughed awkwardly. “Well, er, I suppose not all of the old ways are good! Many of them could do with shaking up. Your adventures during winter were very modern Moomin of you. Striking out alone against the icy cold! Forgoing hibernation for the hidden world of winter!”

“I wasn’t alone, I had Too-Ticky,” Moomintroll corrected. “And the Ancestor, he helped. I’d probably be a popsicle now if it weren’t for them.”

“Ah, well, that doesn’t sound quite as exciting, son,” he said. “One must dramatize when story-telling.”

“Do you do that?”

“Of course not, my adventures were exciting enough to be told in full, glorious detail,” he said, and then chuckled in that weird way again.

“Right,” Moomintroll said, thoroughly wishing they had stayed in Moominhouse. They fell into silence again, and it was not a comfortable one.

It was made even more uncomfortable when Moominpappa cleared his throat. Oh dear, Moomintroll thought, now he has something _important_ to say.

“You know, son,” he said, and then cleared his throat again. “I am rather proud of the Moomin you’ve become and –“ He cleared his throat again. “If something were troubling you, you can ask your Pappa, you know? You don’t have to run off to Mamma every time.”

There was a twist of guilt in Moomintroll’s gut.

“I don’t run off to her every time,” he said, somewhat dishonestly, because the rest of the time he ran off to _Snufkin._ He wasn’t sure that would make Pappa feel any better.

“Ah, well, you know,” Pappa said, and then fell into embarrassed silence.

Moomintroll thought for a second, and then swallowed.

“Pappa?” he said. Moominpappa huffed in response, ears twitching. Moomintroll fiddled with his rod, watching the bobber dipping and swaying on the surface of the water.

“Um, there is something,” he said, taking his tail in his paw. “Have you ever had times when you felt like you weren't exactly what others wanted you to be? And, maybe…um, times when you were scared to be honest about that?”

“Ah,” Moominpappa said, reclining in his seat. “Ah, yes, of course. This harkens right back to the darkest part of my childhood, you know. The foundling house, you remember it?”

“Err, I think,” he said. It had certainly been a prominent part of the play, but Pappa had changed the script a few times, and the scenes at the Foundling House had been very brief. If he was honest, he was still a bit confused about it.

“Yes, well, I was raised by a wicked, strict hemulen,” he said. “Always drilling us about our manners. We had to salute her every day, holding our tails up at precisely forty-five degrees, and then we would spend the day doing multiplication and spelling contests. We were to wear uniforms precisely, always tell nothing but the bare-bones truth, and never ever daydream. It was a terrible way to live.”

He closed his eyes and shuddered, overcome with memories of his unhappy childhood.

“Most un-Moominly, I must say,” he said. “We’re wild creatures at heart, son! I longed to hold my tail however I liked! Too live free! Wild! To forgo clothes entirely!”

“So, what did you do?” Moomintroll asked, drawn into the story despite himself. Pappa was never terribly consistent about the details of how he left the Founding House. Sometimes he would leave a letter and steal off into the night, sometimes he liberated all the other Moomin calves, other times the Foundling House owner would beg and plead with him, in tears, to stay. She was always much younger and prettier in the latter versions.

“Well, I ran away,” he said. “Yes, yes, into the night, with nary a word. I wrote a letter – strongly worded, you understand, I believe it gave that wicked old Foundling House owner quite the pang on her conscience. I took a ship and I sailed, looking for a land where I could live quite without expectations or explanations!”

“And that worked?”

“Of course. Sometimes leaving is the best thing one can do,” he said. “I had many splendid adventures, met many new people. My old house at the Foundling House is long behind me now.”

“Huh.”

“I did that again, when I was older, of course. My adventures with the hattifatteners! Those were when I was becoming uncertain of myself. You see, things were changing very quickly, and in such uncertain times, I needed a staunch adventure to remind myself who I was,” he said. “I’ve told you about my days with the hattifatteners, haven’t I?”

“Mostly,” Moomintroll said. “You ‘dash-dash-dash’ed some of it.”

“Ah, well, you’re old enough now I don’t have to ‘dash-dash-dash’ too much these days,” he said with a chuckle. “If anything, you probably feel like you need to ‘dash-dash-dash’ for your Pappa’s delicate old ears sometimes.”

Moomintroll laughed.

“Only a little, Pappa, I swear,” he said. “You’re not _that_ old.”

“Oh, I feel it these days, trust me,” he said, winding back in his line. “Drat, it got away. Hand me more bait, son.”

Moomintroll dug in the basket, stringing together a frantic plan in his head. He tried to act casual.

“Sooo, this is our boat, is it?”

“Hm? Yes, yes, I suppose so,” Moominpappa said. “Nobody else has tried to claim it, anyway.”

“So even if it was gone for a long while, you and Mamma wouldn’t get in trouble?”

“I think not,” he said. “But I don’t think we should stay out much longer than today, son! We haven’t brought enough supplies for a longer adventure. And your mother will worry.”

“Right, right,” Moomintroll said, heart slamming against his ribs. “Here you go, Pappa, nice fresh bait.”

“Thanks son,” he said. “So, well, I’m not very good at these kinds of heart-to-hearts, but did I help at all?”

Moomintroll felt sick, his head throbbed, but at least now he knew the best thing for him to do. Even if it seemed a little frightening now, surely it would be for the best.

“Oh, yes, Pappa,” he said. “You helped plenty.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So next chapter's gonna be fun!
> 
> Here's a reminder of the remaining chapter titles:  
> 7\. In which marriage is not always easy, and nor is anything else.  
> 8\. In which Mamma tells a story.  
> 9\. In which Pappa writes poetry, Snufkin consults his cards, and everyone thinks a great deal about what they want.  
> 10\. In which there are dragonflies.  
> 11\. In which we say farewell.


	7. In which marriage is not always easy, and nor is anything else.

To their surprise, Snufkin, Snorkmaiden, Too-Ticky, and Moominmamma ended up having a rather excellent evening in Moominhouse. After they sorted the vegetables Snufkin harvested and tidied the books Little My shredded, they were all rather peckish. Snorkmaiden, feeling a touch nostalgic, suggested Karelian pies. Everyone agreed this was an excellent idea, and they all quickly set to work. Too-Ticky and Snufkin both turned out to have a good touch for preparing dough and Moominmamma was, of course, an expert at making rice stuffing. Snorkmaiden, not one for getting sweaty over an oven, simply put together a quick egg butter and then sat by Moominpappa’s record player, changing the records as needed.

The house was soon Filled with the warm scent of baking, and everyone was feeling rather merry and light-hearted. Moominmamma uncorked a bottle of wine. Both Snorkmaiden and Snufkin, having sworn off the stuff for the rest of their lives a few hours ago, happily accepted a glass. Little My crawled out of wherever she’d been hiding to eat the leftover egg-butter and join the conversation.

For a few pleasant hours, everyone quite forgot their problems, or at the very least, were happy enough to ignore them.

Snufkin, feeling rather merry relaxing at the table with a glass of wine, was suddenly looking forward to Moomintroll coming home. Now everyone had had a little time to lift their spirits, he was sure they would swap apologies and laugh about it. It felt silly now, how upset they’d all gotten.

“Hullo, family!” called Moominpappa, shaking the rain off his fur as he stepped through the door. “Dreadful weather – that storm came right out of nowhere!”

“Welcome back, dear,” Moominmamma said, fetching a towel for her husband. “Catch anything?”

Snorkmaiden and Little My were tucking into their second pies, and Too-Ticky was quite busy fixing whatever was making the record-player stop and start so regularly. Snufkin sat by window, looking to see if Moomintroll was nearby. He really did want to see him.

“Of course, dear,” he said grandly, presenting her with a small perch.

“Oh, how lovely. I’ll ask Snufkin to do something clever with it later,” Moominmamma said, taking it from him. “Where’s Moomintroll?”

“Ah, he’s on his way, just said he forgot something on the boat,” Moominpappa said, and then dropped his voice into his approximation of a whisper. “I think the little chat we had did the trick.”

Snufkin tensed. Little chat?

“Really? He talked to you about it all?” Moominmamma said, delighted.

“Yes, yes. You were quite right. Sometimes a boy needs to talk to his father about these things.”

“Oh, that is such a relief,” she replied, sighing. “I’ve been so worried about him…”

“Aha, yes, I’m sure he’ll be ready to put everything right tonight.”

“Wonderful job, my darling,” Moominmamma said, beaming. “Fancy a pie and a glass of wine?”

“When do I not! It looks like you’ve all had a smashing afternoon.”

“It’s been lovely! I forgot how nice it was to have everyone together –“

Snufkin stood up and headed to the window. Sometimes he got odd, ominous feelings, the kind that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He got one such feeling now, dimmed as it was by Snorkmaiden’s less intuitive body.

It was a thorough summer storm – the rain falling heavy enough to obscure almost everything beyond the hill. Snufkin pressed his paws to the window, squinting out.

Something was wrong, he knew it down to the very core of him.

It hit him, very suddenly. He scrambled down from the windowsill, to where Moominpappa and Too-Ticky were discussing the finer points of carpentry.

“Er, pardon me?” he interrupted. “Moominpappa?”

“Hm, yes, what is it?”

“Did you…take any of the vegetables I harvested today?”

“Eh?”

“Well, there was a crate covered in a tarp…” he said, gesturing out of the window, “The tarp is gone now, and it looks like something got into the vegetables.”

“Oh dear, I hope someone isn’t going hungry out there,” Moominmamma said, moving to fetch an umbrella from the stand. “If there is, we should invite them in right away.”

“Moomintroll’s very late,” Snorkmaiden piped up suddenly, standing.

Snufkin’s ominious feelings were progressing into panic, the type that presses at one from inside. He forewent the umbrella and rushed outside.

“Snufkin! Darling, it’s very wet!” Moominmamma called. Snufkin stumbled on the mud, falling. He expected a lecture from Snorkmaiden for getting her fur muddy, but she just appeared by his side, pulling him up by the arm. She frowned at him.

"What's wrong?" she asked, puzzled.

"I need to check something," he said, because he didn't know how else to explain it.

Snufkin slid down the hill the rest of the way, clutching his hat to his head against the wind, and finally come to stop by the crate. It had been yanked open, half of the veggies made off with, the rest turning into a wet slurry at the bottom.

“Someone took these in a hurry…” Snorkmaiden muttered, holding her umbrella over both of them.

“Yes, rather like they didn’t want someone to glance out the window,” Snufkin said, and leaned into the crate.

“What are you doing now?” she asked. Snufkin didn’t reply, certain he would spot what he was looking for, even with Snorkmaiden’s less-than-stellar eyesight. Standing up straight, he held out a tuft of white fur to her. She looked at it, and then at him, going pale.

“Kids? What’s going on down there!” Moominpappa called from the house. Snufkin was already turning to go, but Snorkmaiden grabbed his arm.

“We need to _tell them_ , first!” she said. “What good will it do to run off by yourself?”

Brain buzzing too much to argue, he consented to be dragged back into the house, Moomintroll’s fur clutched between his paws.

“Is everything alright?” Moominmamma asked. Snufkin found he didn’t really know what to say, so he just showed her the fur. They all pressed around to stare at it.

“Eh? Did that fuzzy idiot just rob his own garden?” Little My asked.

“Oh,” Moominpappa said suddenly, very softly.

Very slowly, Moominmamma turned towards him.

“Dear," she said. "What was it you and Moomintroll talked about, exactly?”

Oh dear. If Moominmamma ever spoke to Snufkin in that tone, he would run out the door screaming and never be seen again.

“Well!” Moominpappa said, clearing his throat. “You know, what needed talking about.”

“…Which is?”

The rest of them, even Little My, took a sudden and intense interest in the floorboards.

“Well, you know! How to keep one’s lady friends happy, haha,” he said. Moominmamma’s face was like thunder, but Moominpappa kept chattering away happily. “And then we got talking about my thrilling youth, you know, as we often do! So fascinated by my life, that one.”

“…What about your youth?”

“Well, you know! My excursions to find myself, of course! Like my departure from the Foundling House, and well other things…of that ilk…“

“Adventures with the Hattifatteners?” Moominmamma asked flatly.

“…It got to that topic.”

“Darling, did you mention _why_ you suddenly went adventuring with the Hattifatteners?” she said. “One can’t help but think it’s an important part of the story.”

“Errr…well, there wasn’t any one reason.”

“Ah,” she said. “Well, I suppose the fact I was pregnant was a coincidence.”

Snufkin winced along with the rest.

“Ah – ha, ah, well…that’s –“

“Darling, you are an _ass_.”

Moominmamma turned back towards them, her face and demeanour very calm.

“This is terribly inhospitable of me,” she said. “But please excuse me for just a few minutes.”

She left out the front door and walked to the bottom of her garden.

“Oh dear, I've made a mistake somewhere, haven't I?” Moominpappa asked quietly.

He looked to be thinking terrible hard for a moment, and then he looked at Snufkin and Snorkmaiden. He glanced between them rapidly for a second, and then his eyes went very wide.

“Oh,” he said, in the tone of someone who was trying terribly hard not to say anything ruder. “ I’ve…rather misunderstood the situation, I think.”

Moominmamma stood at the bottom of the garden, still as a statue for a moment.

“Is she okay?” Snorkmaiden asked.

Quite suddenly, Moominmamma bellowed some words that, for the sake of any younger readers, will not be repeated here.

“Oh yes,” Moominpappa said miserably, watching his wife turn the air blue. “I can’t say the same for myself in future, however.”

Moominmamma continued to shout at the bottom of the garden for a few minutes, leaving the rest of them in stunned silence at the doorway. Quite suddenly, she stopped, breathed in, and returned. Were it not for the mud on her paws and apron, one wouldn’t know anything unusual had just happened.

“I believe,” she said calmly, “my little Moomintroll may have tried one of his Pappa’s old tricks.”

“He’s run away,” Snufkin said quietly. Was it hypocritical of him to feel hurt by that? Perhaps, but hurt it did. Moominmamma looked at him sympathetically.

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” she said.

“Urgh, that idiot!” Little My said. “C’mon, let’s go catch him before he does something else stupid.”

They set off together, bundled up and carrying umbrellas against the wind and rain. The weather was getting worse, Snufkin thought. Normally, he wouldn't begrudge someone taking some time to themselves suddenly, but in this weather, it was terribly dangerous, even for a well-versed ourdoorsman. And for someone who was distressed and panicking and perhaps not so experienced...well, Snufkin didn't like to dwell on it.

Little My took the lead, scampering on all hours and sniffing the grass.

“You surely can’t smell him, can you?” Snorkmaiden said, holding her umbrella against her shoulder. “Mymbles don’t have that good noses.”

“Well, I’m half something else!” she snapped. “And that something else gave me a good nose. Now shut it, I’m concentrating.”

“Little My, if we could hurry it along,” Snufkin said.

“Oh calm _down_ you great glowworm, he won’t have gotten far,” she snapped. “And get your fur under control. It’s giving me a headache.”

Snufkin tilted his hat down – he hadn’t noticed how bright his pelt was until she said that, but it was throbbing sickly orange with nerve.

She led them a long way, battling against the increasing wind. Soon they were almost back at the docks, shivering in the cold and wet, all of them becoming nervier. The rain was quickly becoming a storm – the kind even Snufkin at his most adventurous would take shelter from. This was not a night to be out alone.

“I think he’s –“

“Thieves! Miscreants! Ruffians!”

They all looked up to see a hemulen in a raincoat throwing an almighty tantrum.

“Looks like we’re not the only ones having a bad night,” Little My muttered, and then shouted across to him. “Shut it, will you! I’m trying to catch a scent!”

“Aye, well, maybe you can catch one for me while you’re at it!” the hemulen bellowed, “Some no-good bloody thief has made off with my boat! I came out here to cover her up against the rain, and some little ne’er-do-well was halfway out to sea in her!”

“Err…” Moominpappa said, speaking for the first time in quite a while (and only after glancing at Moominmamma for permission to do so). “This wouldn’t be a fine cherry wood craft, with a rather dashing silver sail, would it?”

“That’s the one. How do you know it?” the hemulen said, leaning over to glower at Moominpappa. “You in league with the thief, eh? You look like him, come to think of it. I need to give that thief a good walloping but I’ll settle for what I can get.

Moominpappa shrank.

“Oh, er…you know, I’m an artist, not a fighter.”

“That boat isn’t ours?” Moominmamma asked quietly.

“Well, I rather thought it wasn’t _anyone’s_ ,” Moominpappa muttered back, leaning away from the hemulen. “I never see anyone sailing it.”

“ _Sailing_ it?” the hemulen shouted in outrage, “Pah! Boats aren’t for _sailing_ , they’re for owning.”

Snorkmaiden put an arm in front of Snufkin to stop him doing whatever it was he was about to do.

“Excuse me? Sir?” she said sweetly. The hemulen paused, caught off guard by such a friendly tone. He looked at her, quite baffled.

“I’m afraid our friend has made a terrible mistake ,” she continued politely. “I’m sure he was only taken in by what a _splendid_ boat she was. You must take wonderfully good care of her.”

The hemulen stared at her, looking as though she’d pulled the rug quite from under his feet.

"Er, well, yes, I do, in fact," the hemulen said proudly. Snorkmaiden giggled. Snufkin gawked at her. He couldn't believe she was doing _this_ in _his_ body - it was so mortifying he almost forgot to be worried.

“Of course you do! You must be very patient, to work on it so consistently."

"I stick in with things, I suppose..."

"Yes, so, may we ask you to be patient a moment longer? And please don’t call the police. We will get your boat back right away for you, I promise,” she concluded, and gave the hemulen the most innocent, pleading look she could muster. On Snufkin’s face, it wasn’t quite so effective, but it was still quite potent.

Eventually, the hemulen grunted.

“Alright, fine. But only because _you_ look like a respectable young man,” he said, and stormed away. “I want my boat back by morning, you hear me!”

“Respectable young man,” Snufkin repeated in disgust. “You’ve ruined me.”

“Oh shut up,” Snorkmaiden said. “It was the quickest way. We haven't exactly got a lot of time, you know."

“Quite right,” he said, and turned. “Too-Ticky? You’ve got a boat, don’t you?”

“Aye, and I expect you’ll be wanting to borrow it,” she said.

“You’re not going to try to stop us?” Snufkin asked.

“Won’t make a lick of difference,” replied Too-Ticky, already taking them towards a boat, a little battered but merrily decorated with lanterns. “Best I can do is go with you. Doubt you’re a bad sailor, but I’ve got a good few decades experience on you.”

She looked out over the sea.

“I’m afraid in this storm, those years will be precious.”

****

This was, quite clearly, Moomintroll’s most fantastically brilliant plan yet.

Yes, yes, it was. It was clear to him now – he was the problem, so he should leave. He was just making everyone unhappy. After all he wasn’t brave enough or clever enough to fix anything, and Snufkin and Snorkmaiden seemed to get on much better with _each other_ and -

No, no, he wasn’t thinking about any of that!

In fact, the better question was: why should he stay? So burdened by everybody’s expectations, held in place by Snorkmaiden, left far too free by Snufkin, practically _coddled_ and suffocated by his parents. Yes, this was a better situation for everyone!

Especially as nobody now had to have any miserable conversations. He didn’t have to hurt Snorkmaiden, and he didn’t have to risk _himself_ getting hurt either, and nothing would change, and he would come back home to a Moominvalley reset, back to the way things should be.

“Hahahaha, yes!” he cried out against the rain, and then stumbled and hit his head against the mast. He stood, momentarily glad nobody had seen that, before he heard a sigh behind him.

“Really? This is what you’re doing?”

He wheeled around. The Passer-by floated above his supplies, crunching on a carrot. The bindle he had made out of the tarp had already came undone, and vegetables were flowing all over the deck.

“Are you _that_ desperate to not have to deal with things?” she asked. Moomintroll put his snout in the air – he didn’t have to engage with this creature any longer. He was a free moomin now, not beholden to anyone or anything.

“If you must know, I just need a little time to myself,” he said, with as much dignity as he could muster. “One needs such solitude to…to er, discover who they really are.”

The Passer-by sighed.

“You _know_ who you really are,” she said, tossing the end of the carrot at his head. He ignored her. She floated past him upside-down, hanging her head down to peer at him.

“So, you’ve tried doing it _her_ way, and now you’re doing it _his_ way…well,” she said, and brightened up. “I suppose there’s a nice symmetry to it! Thematically, I mean.”

“Now, I don’t know if I was clear enough when I said I was after time to myself?” he said. “I meant alone. Without any annoying little fairies bothering me.”

The Passer-by dodged the swipe of his paw easily, and he stumbled, almost slipping on the deck.

“Mm, you haven’t had much sleep the past few days have you?” she said, leaning towards him.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Oh nothing, nothing. I’m sure _plenty_ of people have made great life choices when they’re sleep-deprived,” she said. Moomintroll huffed, ignoring her. The fairy continued to float around him, watching him struggle to control the sail and tidy up the errant vegetables at the same time.

“Lad, really, you should just go back. You know this isn’t the right way to handle things,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m giving you a chance here. You’re already in trouble.”

“I – “Moomintroll said, trying to save a few turnips from going overboard, smacking his hip against the side of the boat in the process, “Oof. I am completely fine! I am a mature adult moomin, off on an adventure, that’s all!”

“Oh come on. You’re going backwards here,” she said, and then straightened up, floating very close to his snout, expression stern. “Listen wee one - I’m giving you one last chance to go home.”

“Thank you, but no thank you. I feel quite satisfied here.”

With a sigh, she pulled out her pen.

“Well, don’t say I didn’t give you a chance,” she said, writing in the air again.

“What are you doing?” Moomintroll asked, almost slipping on a carrot skidding across the deck.

The Passer-by flicked her pen and sent all the letters skyward, where they soaked into the already-grey clouds above, turning them inky black.

“What – what are you _doing_?” Moomintroll repeated.

She grinned. The sky flashed white with lightning, thunder roaring above him. She floated above him, framed by the growing storm.

“Pathetic fallacy,” she said.

With a squeaky little laugh, she zipped away, disappearing a flash of lightning.

****

“Oh dear, the weather’s getting worse,” Moominmamma muttered. Snufkin didn’t reply – he was far too concerned with gazing out through across the sea, trying to spot a glimpse of white fur. How could Moomintroll just leave, without saying goodbye, without resolving anything they had left hanging between them, without –

Oh, yes, he knew, he knew, terribly hypocrite he was, he _knew_ but –

“I don’t think he even had a coat with him,” Moominmamma continued fretfully.

“Now don’t you worry,” Too-Ticky said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll find him. And you won’t find a sturdier boat than one built by Too-Ticky!”

“Urgh, why did that boy have to listen to _me_ , of all people?” Moominpappa moaned, desperately searching the waves with his spyglass. “He should know that I have no sense whatsoever!”

“Well, neither does he,” Little My remarked, hopping onto Snorkmaiden’s shoulder. “You see anything, fuzzy nose?”

“Pardon?” she said, startled. Little My sighed, rolling her eyes.

“You’re the one with Snufkin’s night-eyes right now, c’mon,” she said, gesturing at her eyes. “You’ve got a better chance of seeing him than any of us!”

“Oh. Oh, oh, yes, of course!” she said, and then extended a paw to Pappa, “Er, Pappa?”

“Yes, yes, take it, by all means,” he said, shoving it at her and going back to drumming his paws on the railing.

“Gan up to the crow’s nest,” Too-Ticky instructed. “If you’re going to see him from anywhere, it’s up there.”

Snorkmaiden nodded, darting off to clamber up the ladder with the spyglass held between her teeth. Snufkin continued staring out, feeling rather useless. Usually, he were rather good in this sort of situation, and didn’t understand why other lost their heads so easily. Yet he simply couldn’t think clearly at all.

“And _you_ calm down,” Little My said, kicking him in the shin.

“I’m perfectly calm,” he muttered.

“Tosh.”

“Well fine, I’m not,” he snapped. “It’s _my_ fault Moomintroll’s out here.”

“Oh please, it’s nobody’s fault but his own,” Little My said, and then glanced at Moominpappa. “Well, maybe the other fuzzy idiot a little bit too.”

Snufkin shook his head, frustrated. She didn’t understand what he meant at all. He was fairly certain none of them did – they all thought far too well of him.

“I just – if I didn’t _insist_ on coming back to the valley every year,” he said, gripping the railing tight, “Moomintroll wouldn’t have gotten…well. Confused.”

Little My gave him a strange look – for once, she almost looked neither glad nor mad. In fact, she looked rather saddened. Snufkin didn’t have time to think about it, because she suddenly bit him on the ankle.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“For being a sadsack,” she said. “Now you listen to me. I don’t know anything about this mushy nonsense. And I sure don’t want to. But I’ve seen enough poor chumps fall for my mother to know that people can’t help how they feel. And they can't be tricked into it or out of it, either.”

She glowered up at him, arms folded.

“So don’t give me that self-pitying nonsense ever again, got it?” she said. “Honestly. You’re meant to be one of the _smart_ ones.”

Snufkin looked at her for a moment and then finally sighed, much humbled.

“…you have an interesting manner of showing affection, little Mymble.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re just no fun when you're moping.”

Snufkin chuckled.

“Yes, I’m sure that –“

The retort Snufkin had in mind was lost to a rumble of thunder, and a wave that threatened to topple the boat. Snufkin seized onto the railing, sea spray soaking through his fur.

“I see him!” shouted Snorkmaiden from above. “North-east! North-east!”

Snufkin ran to help Too-Ticky steer the ship, following Moominpappa’s directions. They bobbed sickeningly on the churning waves, the sea disappearing around them with every flash of lightning, every wave bringing more water onto deck. Yet soon Snufkin spotted it – that small cherry wood ship, and the lone figure struggling to keep it from capsizing.

“Ey, fuzzball!” Little My bellowed. Her voice carried even over the roar of the wind, and Moomintroll’s ear twitched. He glanced over his shoulder at them, and then seized the oars, trying to push himself even further away.

“Darling, come back!” Moominmamma called from the stern, holding onto Too-Ticky. “It’s far too dangerous out here.”

“N- no!” Moomintroll spluttered. “All of you go home!”

“Son, this was not what I was trying to say in the _least_. I completely misunderstood!” Moominpappa called. Moomintroll ignored them, focusing on trying to get away to them, but he was completely losing control of the ship. One oar had already been caught and consumed by the waves, and the other was no use by itself. He seized onto the rigging, trying to control the sail instead.

“I’m trying to fix things!”

“How! Just stop being a drama queen and come back already!” Little My shouted.

“No! Don’t you all get it?” Moomintroll said furiously, “ _I’m_ the problem here!”

There was another huge wave, one that sent Little My tumbling down the deck. Moominmamma whipped out a paw just in time to stop her tumbling overboard. Snufkin ripped onto the railing, sea water soaking through his fur. Moomintroll managed to keep the little cherrywood boat afloat, but only just.

Snufkin didn’t know what to say, or what to do, but he knew he needed to get Moomintroll out of the sea, by whatever means necessary.

“Moomintroll!” Snufkin shouted, trying to make his way to the prow of the ship. Moomintroll’s eyes went wide at the sight of him, and he clung tighter to the rigging.

“It's my fault you're like this!"

“Don’t be silly,” Snufkin said, trying to sound composed even with the blood roaring in his ears and his fur flashing oranges and golds and lots of things in between. “You didn’t cast the spell. It was the fairy.”

“No, she was right! I was muddling you up! I've been muddling you up and keeping you both so unhappy, but I can’t fix it, I can’t I’m just not brave enough,” he said. “I should just leave!”

“What good will that do?” Snufkin shouted.

“You’d both be better off!”

Snufkin huffed, struggling against the wind. He dropped low to push back against the wind, one hand holding his hat to his head.

“Moomintroll – “

Moomintroll looked over at him, and then closed his eyes, burying his face in the mast.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Oh, Snufkin couldn’t take this. He clambered onto the stern of the ship, wobbling against the wind. He were already sore all over, and his fur felt wet and heavy.

“You can’t just run away.”

Moomintroll shook his head, looking as though he were squeezing his eyes tighter.

“Oh, I know I do it, I know,” Snufkin called, paws shaking with the cold and terror, but also with the effort of being so frank, for once. “It doesn’t help though! I’ve tried it so much! We –“

“No, no, no! Don’t be nice to me, I don’t deserve it, I –“

“Moomintroll!” Snufkin bellowed, something snapping in his chest. “You are being an _ass_!”

Moomintroll looked up, eyes wide with shock. He released the rigging, looking at Snufkin as though seeing him for the first time in a long while.

And then there was a crack of thunder, and the sea churned beneath them. Moomintroll stumbled, slipping on the deck, and then tumbled overboard.

It is said that in emergency situations, one’s thinking can become very clear. Time seems to slow down, and one enters both a state of perfect calm, and of superior strength. It is during these times, that individuals can commit amazing feats of strength and quick-wittedness, the sorts of heroism that would be spoken of for years to come.

This was not one of those moments.

“Snufkin, no!” Snorkmaiden shrieked.

Snufkin, without even pausing to remove his hat, threw himself into the sea.

You see, Snufkin, who was always so clever and careful and restrained, had suddenly forgotten to be any of that.

He had also forgotten, quite entirely, that snorks cannot swim.

They only sink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really want to them to put the fact Moominmamma goes down to the bottom of the garden to shout when she's angry in Moominvalley.


	8. In which Mamma tells a story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is my fave, I hope you guys like it!

The ocean is not forgiving. It lives fiercely and beautifully free, and will claim for its own anyone foolish enough to underestimate it.

Moomintroll had underestimated it thoroughly. As soon as he hit the cold shock of the water, he realised how much. The gasp of air he’d managed before being pulled under burned in his chest, the raging waters battering him. The dark shapes above already seemed so blurred and distant.

And then he saw Snufkin, hat floating away, thrashing his limbs but only sinking further and further.

Snorks, Moomintroll remembered, couldn’t swim.

All of a sudden, everything Moomintroll had been so frightened of, the things that had been holding his tongue and his heart and his head captive, it all shrank to nothing, because he now had something to really fear.

Pushing through the water, he cast all that aside, focusing only on the golden glow of fur amidst the dark sea.

****

Saving a drowning person ought to be a heroic endeavour.

Yet, like many things, it was really nothing like the stories. There is an awful lot of thrashing, of desperation, of near-misses, of shouting and you feel much too terrified to look gallant.

Moomintroll found he didn’t care. He didn’t care if he looked brave or heroic or any of the rest of it - there were more important things at stake.

Moomintroll only barely had enough energy to make it to the surface. As he emerged, clinging onto Snufkin with every ounce of strength he had, Little My hurled out the lifebuoy, and the others scrambled to create a chain to pull them onto the deck. Snufkin was out cold at that point, and Moomintroll couldn’t speak. He wouldn’t even let go until Too-Ticky snapped at him. Snufkin, awoken by Too-Ticky’s CPR, rolled onto his stomach and threw up sea-water, shivering from head to toe, fur so soaked he looked grey. Snorkmaiden cried and shouted at them and called them every horrible name she knew. Little My bit Moomintroll’s ankle and tried to pretend her eyes weren’t red. Moominpappa could only sit and tremble, for once silenced.

Moominmamma, tearful, threw her arms around Moomintroll, and then Snufkin, and then finally Snorkmaiden for good measure, and then back to Moomintroll again.

“Mamma,” he muttered into her neck, shivering from tip of his ears to the end of his tail. “I’m so sorry. Can we go home?”

“Of course,” she said, voice still watery.

****

They arrived back to Moominhouse, all soaked and exhausted. Little My shook herself dry like a dog and then darted up the stairs, shouting something about going back to work now _that_ stupidity was all over. Snorkmaiden stormed upstairs for a hot bath, mumbling something – all Moomintroll caught was ‘Drama queens’ and ‘Scared me half to death’. Too-Ticky, after docking the hemulen's boat, returned and took Snufkin aside to check he didn’t need any further medical treatment, quiet all the while.

Moomintroll sat in the living room, Mamma’s biggest and fluffiest towel cuddled around him. Strangely, he didn’t feel as upset as he had. For the most part, he just felt stupid. He’d made such a scene and caused so much trouble, and it was all just horribly embarrassing.

The Ancestor, having poked his nose out to see what all the fuss was all about, took one look at Moomintroll shivering, and immediately built a fire in the hearth. He lit it and turned back to Moomintroll with a concerned look, and then pushed him a little closed to it.

“Oh,” Moomintroll said. “Thank you.”

The Ancestor chittered and gave him a quick nuzzle to his side, before scampering off to find another hidey-hole.

From around the corner, he could hear Pappa’s voice.

“I’m very sorry dear.”

Moomintroll tensed, shifting closer to the fire. Mamma and Pappa’s shadows were stretched against the wall, elongated by the firelight. They were talking in hushed tones, but Moomintroll could still hear them well enough.

“I know, dear –“ Mamma replied.

“I shouldn’t have –“

“I know.”

“Are you still upset?”

“A little.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, darling, don’t look so sad. I love you even when I’m upset with you,” Mamma said. “But I think I’ll feel just a little bit angry for the rest of the night.”

“Of course. I love you very much, dear. Be as angry as you like,” Pappa replied.

Moomintroll swallowed. He wondered if Snufkin was feeling better yet. As tired and embarrassed as he was, and as bad as things had been for the past few days, he felt as though everything would feel much better if Snufkin was sitting by the fire with him now.

He heard footsteps, and then the door creaking open.

“Snufkin?” he asked, perking up.

“He’s still recovering, I’m afraid,” Moominmamma said, walking in with a tray of hot cocoa held in her paws, a fresh towel over arm. Moomintroll tried not to deflate too visibly. Giving him a careful look, Mamma set the tray down on the side table and walked over to him.

“Oh dear, you’re still quite wet through,” she said, and then gestured for him to stand. “Up you get, let’s dry you off.”

She took the towel and began drying him off, as though he were quite a lot smaller and younger than he was. It put a lump in his throat, and he was not sure why.

The living room were dark and warm, lit only by the crackling fire in the hearth. Outside, the rain continued to lash down and the wind continued to howl, but the thunder and lightning had long since stopped. He had been waiting for a moment when he was not afraid at all, but he was not sure that moment would ever come. Perhaps the only thing would be to do it regardless.

Moomintroll plucked up all of his courage, and then some of everyone else’s for good measure.

“Mamma?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t want to marry Snorkmaiden.”

Moominmamma paused, resting the towel on his shoulders.

“Whatever made you think you had to?”

And, for whatever reason, that is what makes him crack. It all bubbled up from his chest and filled his throat and then he blinked hard, over and over, but it didn’t do any good. All the real upset he’d been bottling up was coming out, at long last.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m really sorry. I tried, but I’m not like you and Pappa. I don’t think I want to marry a girl at all. Not even when I’m older, not even when I’m ready to marry, not ever.”

He rubbed his face with his paws, barely able to look at her.

“I really did try, Mamma,” he pleaded.

“And so very hard. It’s no wonder you’re tired,” she said.

“I’m sorry!”

“There’s nothing to apologise for, dear.”

He had been so completely terrified. And it wasn’t that he was frightened she would be cruel. He knew Mamma would be kind and understanding no matter what. What scared him was that she would say all the kind things, but remain a little disappointed beneath it all. Yet, as she pulled him into a hug, he knew that was not the case at all.

For a while Moomintroll just shuddered and breathed, face buried in Moominmamma’s fur. She waited, letting him take as long as he needed. Finally he released her, stepping back and taking a breath.

Moominmamma offered him her handkerchief, and he wiped his eyes dry.

“I don’t know what I should do,” he said, twisting her handkerchief in his paws.

“I think you do,” she said quietly. He gave a hiccupping little laugh.

“No, you’re right, I do,” he said. “But I really don’t want to hurt her. I’m not doing this because she’s horrible. She’s amazing.”

“I know, dear.”

“I’ve been making her really miserable for a while now,” he said. Moominmamma took the towel away and sat him down in front of the fire, gesturing for him to join her. He settled down next to her, still sniffing, and she tugged a blanket from the sofa and bundled it around them. She pressed his cocoa into his paws, and he took a long sip, letting it fill and warm him.

“I’ve been trying to think of a way to fix things without hurting her,” he said finally. “But I just can’t. I know that’s horrible, but I just can’t.”

Moominmamma shook her head.

“I’m afraid it’s rather impossible to live one’s life without ever hurting anyone else.”

“But…” he said, searching for the words and finding no good ones, “It’s bad.”

“That doesn’t mean _you_ are,” she said. “Even the most spectacularly wonderful and kind people hurt others sometimes. If you never do, it means you’re not close enough to anyone _to_ hurt them.”

“…Even you?” Moomintroll asked, genuinely struggling to imagine it.

“Even me,” she said. “Your father and I have our fights, you know. And I’m not always blameless in them.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “I’ve seen you yelling at the bottom of the garden.”

She chuckled, the noise vibrating against Moomintroll’s ear.

“Two people can absolutely adore each other top to bottom, whether as friends or as family or as something else entirely, and will still occasionally have need to call the other an ass,” she said, stroking the back of his head.

They fell quiet. Moomintroll closed his eyes for a second. Mamma’s fur soft against his cheek. The rain outside raged on, but closed in the warm living room, bathed in the gentle orange light of the fire, it was a comforting noise.

It would be easy to sleep here, cuddled up against the fire like he was just a child again. And easy enough to pretend the whole conversation never happened in the morning.

He didn't want that.

“Mamma?” he said, opening his eyes.

“Hm?”

“Why were you in the sea that night?” he said, sitting up entirely to look at her. “The night you and Pappa met?”

She looked startled to be asked, as though she’d never once considered anyone would.

“Are you asking for a story?” she said.

“Yes,” he said. “I know I’m prying, but would you tell me it?”

“Well, of course I would, but…” she said, and suddenly seemed rather shy. “I’m really not much of a storyteller, you know. Not like your father.”

Moomintroll shook his head.

“That doesn’t matter. I just want to hear it from you.”

“Oh, dear,” Mamma said. “Well, I will do my best. You see, to put it most simply: I was swimming.”

_It was not a terrible night. It was only a little wet, a little windy, and I was only little myself._

_You see, at the time, I was attending a finishing school for girls._

“School?” Moomintroll repeated, aghast. Moominmamma smiled at him.

“Yes, dear, school,” she said. “You see, unlike my grandmother, your grandfather rather thought we should live like modern, civilised trolls, not like traditional moomins. So I was to attend school and wear their dresses and silly boater hats, learning things like how to balance cups of tea on my head and how to sign letters properly. I needed be ready for my short-lived life as a secretary or typist or something of the like, until I married a responsible young troll. One who wore a suit and owned stocks.”

“ _Stocks?”_ Moomintroll said, further horrified. Moominmamma laughed.

“I’m afraid so,” she said. “Imagine. Your father could have been a banker. Or perhaps even a landlord.”

“Urgh!”

“Indeed. May I continue?”

Moomintroll nodded.

_Yes, um, well…it was on a funny little island, with only a little town on it. Finishing schools were always in places where girls could get up to as little mischief as possible, you see. To our fathers and grandfathers, surrounding us with boring fishermen seemed the best thing to do._

_So, to deal with boredom, I swam. Rather a lot. It was a respectable sport, for a girl, and I got quite good at it. There were creatures much better suited for it than me, but I was still one of the fastest girls there, who could hold her breath for longest and carry the biggest weights from the bottom of the pool._

_So, the island was just us girls, the fishermen, the sea, and…well, a rather unusual bunch of boys._

“An unusual bunch…? Wait! Pappa and his friends?” Moomintroll said. “But, I always thought you didn’t meet until that night.”

“Well, not exactly,” she said, going pink with embarrassment.

“You must tell me the exact details!” Moomintroll said, excited enough to raise his voice. Moominmamma hushed him.

“Of course I will. But you mustn’t spoil things for your father,” she said. “He knows his version of events aren’t the most realistic, but he does think they’re the most romantic. And you know how he hates to look foolish.”

“I promise I will be kind to Pappa,” Moomintroll said solemnly. “Just please tell me.”

“Well…alright.”

_You see, at the centre of the island were a rather silly bunch of boys. They called themselves Royal Colonialists, and pretended the island was completely wild and deserted, rather than simply boring._

_It sounds cruel, but we all thought they were quite funny. They seemed like classless, crude little children to us. We all thought we were very high-class and grown up, after all._

_Some of the girls could be quite nasty to them. I believe one girl tricked the Muddler’s whole button collection away from him, making him cry horribly, and only returned it when the Joxter stole her make-up kit as revenge._

“Oh, the poor Muddler,” Moomintroll said sympathetically. “High-class people can act in very low-class ways.”

“A very astute observation, dear.”

_And, ah. Well, of course, one of those boys was your father._

“Their leader?”

“I don’t believe they were ever organised enough to have a leader,” she said with a laugh, and then paused, looking down at her paws.

“What is it?”

“Well, this next part is a little embarrassing,” she said, turning pink. Moomintroll stared at her, eyes wide.

“Well, now I simply must know.”

“Alright, alright…” she said, “But please don’t think less of me, dear. I was only small.”

_Your father saw me at the market (despite being self-sufficient and resourceful Royal Colonialists, they still shopped for groceries), and he was um…err…_

_Well, he was smitten, I think._

Moominmamma’s face was brighter pink than Moomintroll had ever seen it. He elected to spare her, keeping his mouth shut.

_Being your father, he immediately took to courting me. Leaving me silly flowers he’d picked out on the island, little things that had washed up on the beach. They were not proper courting gifts, because he and his chums owned nothing of worth in their little Lost Boys camp, but he went out of his way to find things that were pretty._

_And he wrote poems. Goodness, so many poems._

_Of course, he gave them all anonymously, but -_

"Wait, then how could you tell it was him?"

Mamma laughed.

"Well, he signed all of them 'A Moomin like no other'. I think he thought it made him sound dashing and mysterious, like the Scarlet Pimpernel. But he failed to account for the fact we were the only two moomins on the island," she said. "So it was rather obvious." 

_And – oh this, will make me sound awful, but I…_

_Well, I was horribly embarrassed by the whole thing._

“Embarrassed?”

Moominmamma hid her face in her paws.

“Yes, it feels so cruel to say now,” she said. “But to get that sort of attention from one of those boys would make the other girls tease you terribly. The only way to stop it was to be cruel to the gifts themselves. To laugh and throw them away and talk about how worthless they were. I felt horrid, the whole time, but I thought that was what I _should_ do.”

Moomintroll thought about this for a second. He hated to think of his Pappa getting his feelings hurt like that, but he knew how difficult it was to fight back against what one _should_ do.

“I understand, Mamma.”

“And, well, there was another issue…”

_My attention was elsewhere, truth be told. At the time, I was deep in admiration for one of my classmates._

Moomintroll sat with his mouth agape.

“But your classmates were all...“

“Yes, dear.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, dear.”

_A beautiful sea horse, the most glamorous of all of us. She was the one who would laugh the most horribly at your father’s gifts, but I was very small and very silly and only thought how pretty she was and how much I wanted her to be impressed by me._

_Of course, I knew one shouldn’t say it. But not being able to say it didn’t stop me from acting like an idiot._

“I know how that feels…” Moomintroll muttered.

“Yes, I rather thought you would.”

“Mamma!”

“I’m just being honest with you, dear.”

_Well, she was a fantastic swimmer herself. Of course she was, being a sea horse. Yet at the time I loved nothing more than to watch her swim. I thought, oh, if only I could swim as well as her, she would be impressed and think I was worth her time. So I trained hard, mornings and evenings and often my lunch breaks, so that one PE lesson I would be able to beat her._

_It took a long time. We Moomins are not bad swimmers, but her kind come from the sea, so I had to work terribly hard. One day, my work paid off. One swimming lesson, we were set to race against one another, and I won by more than a small margin._

_I couldn’t tell you what I was thinking when I sat there by the pool, waiting for her to catch up. I wasn’t sure what I wanted, other than some admission she thought me rather splendid too. Anything more detailed I simply wasn’t allowed to even think about._

Moomintroll shuffled closer to her, putting his head on her shoulder.

_Finally, she reached me and told me she was quite impressed._

_"It takes a lot," she said, "for a little moomin to outpace a sea horse."_

_She wondered if I could swim in the real sea just as well as her too._

_Of course, I was eager to swear I could, that I would love to, that the pool was far too easy and boring anyway._

_So I was invited to join her that Saturday, and show her how well I could tackle the sea._

_I was so excited. I wore my most interesting swimsuit, I combed my fur, I did my make-up as best I could, and off I went._

_It was raining. I didn’t think that odd – sea horses swim in whatever weather, after all._

_She was very kind and warm when I arrived, and we swam together for a long while. What I didn’t notice was that she was taking me further and further from the shore, as the rain and wind got worse and worse._

“How could she!”

“Now, now, dear –“

“But that is so dangerous! She must have known you could have drowned!”

“I know, dear, but she was only little herself then, and very spoiled,” she said.

Moomintroll folded his arms.

“That is no excuse.”

“Of course not. But…”

“But?”

“Well, this will sound terribly arrogant, but I think there was a part of her that rather liked the attention I was giving her,” she said, looking down at her cocoa. “And that frightened her horribly. Frightened people can be terribly cruel and stupid, sometimes.”

Moomintroll thought about this for a second and then nodded, feeling just a twinge of sympathy for the cruel sea horse. He hoped she was kinder and less frightened now.

_And so, eventually I turned around and I was far from the shore, in a sea that was getting more and more treacherous._

_I turned again, and there was the sea horse, further out. She laughed and called out that she needed to go home. Her father would be serving dinner soon, and she couldn’t be late._

_‘But you’re such a fine swimmer, Moominmaiden!’ she shouted gleefully. ‘I’m sure you’ll get back on your own alright!’_

_And then she disappeared into the waves, just like that._

“So, is this where Pappa comes in? Did you start to struggle? Did he dive in and save you?”

“…Well, not exactly,” she said.

_You see, the sea horse hadn’t understood something. She was naturally gifted at swimming, and could breathe underwater, so she could never drown. On the other hand, I had to learn how to be safe in the sea. I had studied and trained, and I had learned what to do when one was out in the middle of the water with little energy left. I treaded water, carefully, gaining my energy back, inching myself towards the shore and keeping my eyes peeled for any help._

_And…then your father._

_Well, he just ran out onto the shore and he saw me, and I think he must have gotten quite muddled. He saw me out treading water, but he got rather flustered and –_

She paused.

“And what?” Moomintroll asked, cross-legged and leaning towards her.

“Darling, you must promise me you won’t read too much into this next bit,” she said, looking at him very seriously. “This is something that happened to me and Pappa, it doesn’t have any great meaning for anything else. I know sometimes it can seem like things are connected, the way they are in stories, but that is not how the real world works.”

“Huh?”

“Just, try to remember that.”

_Well, he threw himself in to save me._

_But I was a girl who had been trained by some of the best swimming instructors in the country. I practised every day. Your father was a boy who only went wading as far as the water went up to his knees._

_And. Er. Well –_

“He started drowning, didn’t he?”

“…Yes. Please don’t tell him I told you. He’ll be horribly embarrassed.”

“I won’t.”

 _Unless I need win an argument_ , Moomintroll promised himself silently.

_So I summoned all the energy I could and swam to save him. It was a horribly messy rescue, but we made it to shore, both of us quite exhausted. We lay there, and I wondered at how sweet he was to try to come to my rescue like that, even if it has been rather silly._

“And _then_ you fell in love,” Moomintroll said, folding his arms with great satisfaction. “Ah, right, right, I get it now.”

“Well…no, not exactly.”

“Oh, by my ever-lasting tail!" he exclaimed, exasperated. "Is any of this story the way I thought it was?”

She laughed.

“I’m sorry, dear. Things don’t work the way they do in storybooks,” she said. “After that, we did start spending more time together, but we were not in love. Oh, he was _smitten_ , sure enough. But only because he’d seen me and thought me pretty, just how I’d seen the sea-horse and thought her pretty. And just like myself with the sea-horse, he didn’t really know me, so couldn’t really love me.”

Mamma smiled to herself, taking a sip of her cocoa.

“But after that night, your father and I became friends. And that was the most important thing.”

Moomintroll squinted at her, too embarrassed to ask what he wanted to ask next. Mamma chuckled, perhaps reading his mind a little. She was still very pink, and her gaze was fixed on the fire in the hearth.

“I couldn’t tell you when it happened, there wasn’t any big event,” she said. “At some point I simply realised I was more excited to see him than anyone else, and that it was him I wanted to share my secrets with and tell my news to first. That’s all.”

“That’s…a little underwhelming.”

“Real life tends to be,” she said, amused. Moomintroll thought on this for a moment.

“Wait,” he said. “I’m confused, is Snorkmaiden supposed to be Pappa or the sea-horse, because –“

Moominmamma slapped him gently over the back of the head.

“Ow! Maaaammaaa!”

“I’m sorry dear, but for _goodness_ sakes,” she said, sighing. “Why on earth do you children try to fit yourself into every story you hear? Snorkmaiden was not in that story. Nor were you. Nor was Snufkin, for that matter.”

Moomintroll squirmed a bit at Snufkin’s name – he hadn’t even mentioned him yet, but he wasn't in the least surprised that Mamma just _knew_.

“I’m just trying to figure out what’s the right choice,” he muttered.

“Well, that’s the difficult thing about being a grown-up. There aren’t really _right_ or _wrong_ choices, even when it feels like there are. There are just choices. They might make you happy and they might not, but that is all there is,” she said. “Perhaps if I’d stayed in school, I would have married that banker my parents liked. Or maybe the sea-horse would have grown up to be kind and thoughtful, and I would have stayed with her. Or perhaps I’d have continued painting, and never married at all.”

“Would any of those have been better?” he asked anxiously.

“I don’t know, dear. That’s the point. None of them would have been correct or incorrect. They would have just been different,” she said.

“But that’s not the case for me!” he groaned, throwing his paws up in distress. “There must be a right or wrong choice to break the spell. What if I make the wrong choice and they both get stuck like this forever?”

“You know,” Mamma said, expression thoughtful. “I’m not so convinced that’s a possibility. I don’t think it’s about making the _right_ choice, but just making a choice at all.”

Moomintroll let his paws fall back into his lap.

“You think?” he asked.

“Yes. You have been letting this go on for a long time,” she said with a laugh. She then looked at him carefully, gaze kind.

"Although…I think you already know what would make you happiest.”

He blushed, looking back at the fire.

They were silent for so long that Mamma took her knitting out of her bag, wrapping the yarn around Moomintroll’s fingers so he could hold it as she worked. For a long time, the only sound was the pop of the logs in the fireplace, and the gentle clicking of Mamma’s knitting needles.

“I think,” he said, very carefully. “I’m going to go talk to Snorkmaiden tomorrow.”

“And I’ll be proud of you no matter what you tell her,” she said. Although he was not sure he deserved it, he wholly believed her. And it made him feel brave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is Gay!Moomin but Bi!Moomin also incredibly valid, ftr.


	9. In which Pappa writes poetry, Snufkin consults his cards, and everyone thinks a great deal about what they want.

Undoubtedly, you would like me to move quickly to Moomintroll’s encounter with Snorkmaiden the next morning. After all, how such a conversation unfolds is undoubtedly the very nail upon which this entire story hangs. I am sure you are eager to see what choice our hero will make, and precisely how he will make it.

If that is the case, you will have to forgive me. To move right on to that next morning will do some disservice to Snorkmaiden and Snufkin both. You see, this story is about them as much as it is about Moomintroll. So we will linger here a moment longer.

First, let us visit Snorkmaiden, who was recovering from the awful fright her friends had given her.

It had been horrible, watching them both sinking under the waves. She was certain that if Too-Ticky hadn’t been there and able to keep her head, they wouldn’t have been able to drag them both back onto the shore. Snorkmaiden was certain she’d never been so scared, and afterwards she was sure she’d never been so angry.

So stupid of them! So irresponsible! If Mamma hadn’t been there she would have slapped them both silly! She didn’t even care about the whole nonsense that had went on between the three of them! It all seemed so stupid, in comparison! She could just throttle the pair of them.

Honestly! Men were such drama queens. It made one wonder why _anyone_ bothered with them at all.

She sighed, sinking lower in the water. Even using her nicest soaps, she could not lie comfortably at all. She felt too big for her skin.

Deciding the bath wasn’t relaxing her as much as it could (how could it, when she was making so much effort to not look at her own anatomy too much), she stepped out. She towelled herself dry (looking at the ceiling as much as she could), and changed into an old sleep shirt Moominmamma had adjusted for her. It was much more comfortable than the awful woollen thing Snufkin slept in. She was beginning to think he was just allergic to having anything nice.

She checked Snufkin’s face in the mirror, prodding at it. He should be pleased she took the reins for a bit, really. The fur on his nose had evened out at last, his hair was in better condition than ever (not that that was saying much), and she’d even managed to completely clear away the acne on his jaw.

Oh, it was satisfying work, she supposed, but it still left her feeling cold. Was beauty really fun or was it habit? Or did she do it because she felt she ought to? Snufkin had clearly not done any of her habits. Her real face and body looked worse than they’d ever been, and that grimy old hat had played havoc on her hair, but…

Well, it didn’t make any difference, did it?

This was ridiculous, really. She didn’t care about Moomintroll’s preferences, what he found pretty or didn’t. The problem wasn’t even that. It was just she didn’t know what to do with herself if she was not being admired. What was a pretty girl, when she was not being looked at?

“That’s enough depressing thoughts,” she told her reflection firmly. “Time for bed.”

She passed Little My’s room (there was frantic ripping and scribbling noises from within, broken by the occasional cackle), and headed to Moominpappa’s study. The light was on inside.

She paused – Moominpappa’s usual writing hours were the early morning, with a cup of coffee and his pipe and the occasional murmur of ‘Ah! Brilliant!’ and ‘Inspired!’. She could hear no gratuitous self-praise, but just the scratch of a pen and the occasional grunt of frustration.

Curious, she pushed the door open. Moominpappa sat at his desk, furiously writing. He sat back, picking up the page with two paws, read it for a second and then went ‘Pah!’, balled it up, and tossed it aside. He pulled over another sheet and set to work again, grumbling and huffing at himself.

“Writer’s block?” she asked. He jumped, pipe dropping out of his mouth.

“Ah, Snorkmaiden,” he said, scooping up the pipe and his tobacco. “How are you feeling?”

“As well as can be, I suppose,” she said, sighing. He lit his pipe again, taking a puff.

“Yes, it’s been a difficult day for all of us,” he said. “And I feel much responsible. I horribly misunderstood the whole situation, I’m afraid.”

“Don’t worry,” she said quickly.

“No, no. I really must apologise,” Moominpappa insisted. He took a breath and relit his pipe.

“You see…I very much love stories,” he said finally. “When one writes a story, one speaks to a stranger, perhaps one who feels as small and lonely as you once did, and says ‘Listen now, things may not be well now, and I cannot promise they _will_ be, but I promise then _can_ be!’.”

He nodded to himself.

“It’s a powerful thing - one that kept me afloat during the unhappy, uncertain days of my youth.”

He took a few more puffs of his pipe, leaning back in his chair to admire the stars through the window.

“Yet it’s a terrible mistake to assume everything works the way it does in stories,” he continued. “Particularly when not everyone gets to have their story heard. But that was exactly what I did. I had such an idea of what was happening with you three chi – young people, that I didn’t bother to _look_. And that is a terrible mistake. One cannot only watch the world through a mirror, after all.”

Snorkmaiden stared at him – she was so used to everything Moominpappa said being so bombastic and self-aggrandising, to hear him so melancholy was enormously odd. It must have shown on her face, because he smiled at her.

“Ah, look at me rambling like an old man!” he said suddenly. “What I mean to say is I caused some trouble, and I am sincerely sorry for it.”

“You’re hardly the only one who causes trouble in this family,” she said. He grinned.

“Of course. But I like to think I cause the majority of it.”

She laughed.

“Oh, I don't know about that. Moomintroll gives you a good run for your money, these days,” she said.

“His antics are nothing compared to when I was his age, I assure you. Now, er, do you mind if I continue writing?”

She shook her head.

“Not at all. I think I'm just going to sit and think for a while.”

He nodded at her, and then returned to work, eyes narrowed in concentration. He made none of his usual flourishes with his pen, and instead seemed to be gritting his teeth in concentration.

“Um, can I ask something?” she said tentatively.

“Ask away, my girl.”

“It’s just…I’ve never seen you unhappy with your own writing before. Are the memoirs coming along alright?”

“Eh? Oh, those are just as grand as they’ve ever been,” he said, waving a paw, “This is rather…err. Well. This is a rather different type of writing.”

“Well, go on then. Tell me.”

He fiddled with his tail. She had never seen Moominpappa so reticent.

“Ah, well, I’m writing a poem for Moominmamma,” he said hesitantly, lifting his arm to show her what he’d been working on. Snorkmaiden leaned over, intrigued.

 _Shall I compare thee to a silk_ (here Moominpappa had scrippled in ‘en’ as a post-script) _hat?_  
_Thou art more luxurious and precious_  
_You_ (Crossed out, replaced with ‘Thou’) _have very pretty ears and eyes like (Drat, what’s a two syllable green thing that’s nice and rhymes with hat?)_  
_Thou art a rock in the storm (only pretty)_  
(The last line crossed out with ‘???? DOESN’T EVEN RHYME’ written in the margin)

Snorkmaiden pressed her mouth into a thin line and desperately hoped that literally nothing she was thinking showed on her face. To her surprised, however, Moominpappa laughed.

“Oh, yes, I’m a rotten poet!” he said. “I tried very hard in my youth to be a good one. My friends used to throw things at me to get me to stop.”

“That seems a bit harsh!”

“Not at all. There is no-one more insufferable than a young man who recites poetry unprompted,” he said, and shook his head. “At the time, I used to write Moominmamma an awful lot. So when I’ve made a mess – like I have today - I write another.”

Snorkmaiden raised an eyebrow.

“Uuh, is _this_ really the best way to make it up to her?”

“Oh, yes, the poem is always terrible. But it makes her laugh,” he said. “I think it reminds her of when we were much younger and sillier.”

“You’re still plenty silly,” Snorkmaiden said before she could help herself. He laughed again.

“Right you are, my girl,” he said. “What about you. Have you a soft spot for poetry?”

Her immediate response was to say yes, of course she did, she adored poetry, and oh, it would be _terribly_ romantic to have a poem written about her, but for some reason the words wouldn’t come out.

She never read poetry. She’d certainly never written it. She didn’t even know anything about it. She didn’t _care_ about poetry, really.

“No,” she said. “I…well, most poetry isn’t about stories, it’s about feelings or moments or ideas and those are all important but. I…well, I like stories.”

He chuckled.

“You and me both,” he said, and budged his chair aside, gesturing for her to take the other. She moved the stack of books and empty dishes aside, sitting herself down.

“You know,” he said, “I actually did have a go of using your notes.”

“My notes?” she said, bewildered.

“Yes, yes, your feedback on my memoirs,” he said, clearing his throat. “I apologise for being so beastly when you first gave me them. We with artistic temperaments can be awfully defensive sorts.”

Snorkmaiden went red.

“Oh, it wasn’t – I was just saying whatever came to mind, really. It wasn’t anything.”

“Really? Because as soon as I used your suggestion, well, just like that the scene was much improved! You were right – Moominmamma’s motivation was as important as my own. I felt rather a fool for never thinking it before,” he said, nodding at her. “In fact, I’m going to redraft all of the chapters with Mamma in them, taking that into account!”

“O-oh,” she said, incredibly flattered. Pappa gestured at her with his pipe.

“You’ve got a good eye for it, you know. Stories," he said. "Even when you all used to play pretend together. It was always you who used to come up with the most marvelously inventive storylines."

She sighed.

“Yes, I suppose I'm very good at pretend games…” she grumbled to herself.

He looked at her a second longer and then turned away, digging something out of a pile of books and papers. He turned, presenting it to her – a plain old exercise book, the sort children used in schools. She stared at it.

“Well reading them and pretending to be in them is all well and good,” he said. “But have you ever written one?”

She was silent for a second, looking at the book as though it were liable to explode.

“When I was very little,” she admitted, voice barely a scrape against the back of her throat. “I wrote it on the inside cover of the first book I was ever given.”

Moominpappa rose an eyebrow at her and she glanced down at her paws.

“And? Did you not enjoy it?”

“No, I did, I just, well…” she said, thinking back to that day. “I realised it was probably a bit silly of me. As though anything in _my_ head were important enough to be preserved on a page.”

He looked aghast, as though she’d said something truly horrible. She looked away, suddenly embarrassed. Why had she ever thought that? It had always seemed so reasonable, but said aloud it seemed cruel and ridiculous. She would never let one of her friends be spoken about like that.

“Well,” Pappa said carefully, pressing the book into her paws. “Why don’t you give it another go? At the very least, _I_ would rather enjoy reading it.”

She swallowed and gave him a wobbly smile. He looked away, humming casually, and passed her a pen.

“If you’d rather like a scotch, let me know,” he said, settling back into his own work. “We writers quite enjoy a nice scotch with our work.”

****

Too-Ticky had been quite silent since they’d returned from the docks, and for that Snufkin was grateful. As soon as he’d been dragged onto deck, clinging to Moomintroll and feeling very wet and foolish, he’d dreaded an onslaught of fussing. He’d much rather they hurled him back into the sea than do that.

Thankfully, Too-Ticky had done nothing of the sort. She had treated him and checked him over with the same efficiency with which she fixed a crooked table leg, doing little more than occasionally muttering to herself or clicking her tongue in thought. She prepared soup and presented it to him silently, sitting beside him on the veranda as he ate, bundled in the biggest blanket Moominmamma owned.

He finished the soup, setting it aside. He felt much better already. He suspected it were something a little more potent than soup - Too-Ticky had been rather secretive while making it, offering little explanation about the contents. Yet he had travelled widely enough to know that if someone didn’t want to explain the little pieces of magic they carried with them, one shouldn’t press the issue.

He sat for a second, watching the rain fall. Inside, Moominmamma and Moomintroll were speaking softly by the fire. Although he couldn’t make out the words, it sounded as though Moomintroll were crying.

There it was, suddenly. The pull in his chest. The one that said, walk here Snufkin, travel across this river Snufkin, climb this mountain Snufkin – but this time, like many other times recently, he was being tugged in two directions at once. One tug said, go inside and see how he is, Snufkin. You miss him and you need him and as much as that hurts, it’s worth it.

The other, the more scraping and desperate, said turn and walk. Walk as far as your legs will carry you, Snufkin, and then walk some more, and do not turn around, not even for a second. You were not meant for warm hearths or to offer a shoulder to cry on. The empty mountain trail - that is the life for you.

He stood. Too-Ticky didn’t react– just went on smoking her pipe and watching the rain, a content little curve to her mouth.

Inside Moominhouse was warm and dry, dark but for the spot of firelight, by which Moomintroll and Moominmamma huddled.

His rucksack sat by the front door, always prepared if there were a need for a hasty escape.

He looked at it for what felt like a long time.

Eventually, he stooped down, fished something out of one of the side-pockets, and quietly slipped back outside. He settled cross-legged beside Too-Ticky and shuffled his tarot cards in his paws. They were all handmade, of course. He was no artist by any means (Moomintroll was quite a bit better than him, these days), but the illustrations were not meant to be pretty. All that was necessary was that they were recognisable.

He took three cards from the top, laying them side by side, face-down.

“Should I leave?” he muttered to the cards.

He leaned over, turning over the first one.

The bristlecone pine.

Well, that was hardly conclusive. Next.

Yellow acacia.

No, no, no.

The dragonfly.

Snufkin scooped them back up, shuffling them with more vigour this time, thinking all he could into them. He laid out another spread, flipping them over with perhaps more force than was necessary.

White dahlia.

The butterfly, inverted.

The dragonfly.

The cards weren’t recognising him. They thought he was Snorkmaiden.

Again!

Yellow acacia.

White dahlia.

The dragonfly.

Stop it, he thought, give me a sensible answer!

Yellow acacia.

The swans.

The dragonfly.

“Now you are being ridiculous!” he burst out, fur completely red.

“Having some trouble?”

He startled, dropping the cards entirely. They fell in a big mess – all but yellow acacia, who contrived to land face up on top of them all. Snufkin was certain that it was actively making fun of him at this point. He bundled them up, wishing Snorkmaiden had any pockets for him to shove them in. He had to settle for squashing them between his paws.

Too-Ticky looked a bit too amused for his tastes.

“They’re won’t give you the answer you want just because you keep asking,” she said casually. “Honest as can be, cards like that.”

Snufkin said nothing, deciding the best way to teach the cards a lesson would be to sulk. Too-Ticky took the cards out of his paws, smoothing them out and shuffling them gently, as though trying to reassure them. He expected her to lay out a spread herself, to really rub his nose in it, but she just kept shuffling, as though it were merely something to do with her hands.

“Daft thing you did today,” she said, as though he’d simply made a silly bet in a poker game.

“I just didn’t think,” he muttered. 

“Aye, that you didn’t. Understandable,” she said, tossing the cards from one hand to the other with ease. “Given the circumstances. I'm willing to bet you'd have done something even more dangerous, if you had to.”

Snorkmaiden’s fur betrayed him again. He curled up and rested his chin on his knees, quite tired of feeling so naked.

“Anyway, there was no need to take it out on the cards for telling you something you already know,” she said. “Even if you’re frightened.”

He rankled at that.

“I’m not frightened.”

“Really? Not at all?” she said, turning a card between her fingers. “That’s brave of you. Most people are _terrified_ in your position.”

“My position?” he asked, trying to sound as though he had no idea what she were talking about, but it came out a weak.

Too-Ticky nodded and picked up the dahlia card, inspecting it closely.

“Aye, it’s a scary one to be in,” she said. “Especially for folk like us.”

He stared at her, mouth suddenly dry. She didn’t look back at him, just placed the card down.

“See, for folk like us, we end up believing it can’t even really happen,” she continued, quite casually. “After all, there are no stories about us. How can we even imagine it? How do we even know when we feel it? It’s terribly hard to see yourself when there’s nary a mirror to be found.”

She stared at the yellow acacia card for a while.

“So when it does happen to us – and it does, son, believe me – it’s like finding a jewel,” she continued, placing the card down gently. “Oh, you’re excited at first, but then the panic sets in. You think you’ll never find another again. That it’ll break if you touch it, dull if you look at it too long, get stolen if you wear it too openly.”

She placed down the last card, sitting back to admire it for a second, and then scooped them up, quick as that.

“Easier, really, to put it back where you found it, than risk losing it,” she said, shuffling the cards. “But then…you’ll always know it’s there, won’t you?”

He swallowed.

“I don’t like to own too many things,” he said, voice tiny.

“I don’t doubt that,” she said, “But hardly means you’re not allowed to have _anything._ You take that attitude too far and y’might as well find the constable now and tell him to lock you up. Save you the trouble of doing it to yourself.”

Finally, she passed the cards back to him. He held them in his paws, feeling as though she’d added a great deal of weight to them. He looked at them a long while and then held them to his chest.

“I suppose I am a little frightened,” he admitted.

“Who wouldn’t be?” she said, shrugging.

“It’s just. One risks a great deal,” he said quietly, “asking for things.”

“Aye. But if you don’t, you’ll never have anything,” she replied. He fell silent, sitting and staring at the cards in his paws. Too-Ticky breathed out a long plume of smoke. She jabbed her pipe towards the cards.

“You gonna ask them anything else?” she asked.

He shook his head, laughing shakily.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “They’ve made themselves quite plain. And I don’t believe they’re the ones who can answer the question I really want to ask anyway.”

“Too right, laddy.”

Snufkin laid back, head full of a great deal of buzzing thoughts.

He didn’t know exactly what to do. At the very least, he would, he resolved, make an effort. Even if he were still much too frightened to do anything huge, he would edge forward, inch by inch.

“Too-Ticky?” he asked.

“Mm?”

“Would you mind if I played my mouth-organ a while?” he asked. “I’m not very good at it, shaped as I am right now, but I’d like to try it again.”

“Please do. I’m sure you’ll pick it back up faster than you expect.”

****

So we come to the crossroads.

In the living room, a Moomintroll, almost fully grown, curls up next to his sleeping mother as the fire slowly dies. It is the first time in many years he has slept next to his mother like this. Thinking that, he realises it will almost certainly be the last. So he turns, burying his face in her fur. He is almost fully grown but, for now, not quite.

Upstairs, a Snorkmaiden who has become shaped like a snufkin, tries scotch and decides she doesn’t quite like it. She has coffee, instead, and decides that she much prefers that. She tries pencil and then fountain pen and then plain old rollerball, and decides she likes the latter best. She is silent and she is tired, but for the first time in a long time, she is trying new things. None of them quite work yet, but it is only a matter of time.

On the veranda, a Snufkin who has become shaped like a snork, re-learns how to play the mouth-organ. It is slow and painful, and he winces to hear himself so clumsy. Yet, with encouragement from a new friend, he perseveres. It is beginning to sound like a new tune. He is still holding the subject of the melody a little tightly to his chest, but he is almost ready to show you.

And on the roof, your storyteller, who is, I assure you, as eager as anyone to see how this will all end.

No doubt, you do not want to hear more about this quiet, thoughtful night. After all, very little is happening.

However, these quiet moments, as unexciting as they are for us, are terribly important to them.

So, while it isn’t my usual character, I will let them have this time, uninterrupted.

So, for now: good night.

I look forward to seeing you in the morning.


	10. In which there are dragonflies.

Good morning. I hope you rested well.

Let’s begin.

****

Moomintroll woke early, even before Mamma. The rain had finally broken, and the sun was only just beginning to rise, bringing with it the first cries of the birds and the cicadas. The fire in the grate had long died, leaving only the ashy remains of the logs. They would have to sweep that out for the Ancestor later.

Careful not to disturb Moominmamma, still sleeping curled on the rug, Moomintroll stood up. Tip-toeing to the kitchen, he set to work putting together a breakfast. It wouldn’t be anything grand – just a couple of leftover Karelian pies he could carry with him in a basket. If he waited around to eat breakfast in Moominhouse, he suspected he would lose his nerve entirely.

He filled two flasks with coffee. One with cream, one black but with sugar.

Upstairs, all was dark and silent, but for one sliver of light coming from Pappa’s study.

Moomintroll paused, surprised - had Pappa kept up his early-morning writing habits, even after yesterday? Yet he could heard Pappa’s snores from his bedroom, and couldn't hear any of his usual bombastic self-praise.

“Snorkmaiden?” he called quietly through the door, wrapping his knuckles gently against the wood. It swung open at his touch. There, by the light of Pappa’s dimming oil lamp, Snorkmaiden sat surrounded by reams of paper, the pen in her paw moving endlessly, her palms and fingers covered in ink.

She did not look up as he entered, and for a second he thought she were still angry. Yet her gaze was completely focused, chewing on her lower lip in concentration – she had earnestly not noticed him.

He came up behind her and put a gentle paw on her shoulder, and she almost shot up through the ceiling.

“Sorry, sorry!” he said quickly. “I was just trying to get your attention!”

“Moomintroll?” she asked, rubbing her eyes. She looked as though she’d quite forgotten where she was.

“How long have you been up?” he asked, squinting.

“What do you mean?” she said, and then glanced out of the window. “Oh. It’s morning…”

“Yes,” he said. “Um. I really need to talk to you. Can we take a walk?”

Her expression was inscrutable.

“I’ve prepared breakfast,” he said, and then, because it looked like she’d been up all night. “And coffee.”

She glanced back at the papers.

“Please?” he added.

“Oh, alright,” she said, sounding as nervous as he felt. “We need to do this eventually.”

Yes, he supposed, that they did.

They walked out of Moominhouse, sipping their flasks of coffee. The valley was still glittering from the rain the previous night, and the odd tree had been felled by the wind. It was Moominvalley, but it had been just a tiny bit reshaped.

Neither Moomintroll nor Snorkmaiden spoke as they walked. They simply ate their cold pies and enjoyed the slow thrum of the morning. It was nice, really, to be with one another quietly – without arguing or play-acting or trying to prove one thing or another. It had been a long time.

They crossed the bridge and walked alongside the river. At the fork they paused, only briefly, before following it north towards the woods, rather than towards the sea.

Following the river, they neared an old tree, covered in tiny yellow flowers. Snorkmaiden finally broke the silence:

“Did you know,” she said, as though she was bursting to tell just anyone at all, “that I’m a writer?”

Moomintroll stopped, startled.

“I didn’t,” he admitted. She turned to grin at him, covering her mouth with her ink-covered paws.

“Nor did I! I just found out last night!” she said, as though she had been bursting at the seams to tell it, “I started working on something, a little story. Well, perhaps not so little. Not big either, but – a story.”

“Is it about us?” he asked, a little nervous at the idea. She rolled her eyes.

“No,” she said, definitively. “It’s about pirates. I think it shall work best as a play.”

“Were you up all night working on it?” he asked, surprised. Snorkmaiden was usually so protective of her beauty sleep – she was never interested in midnight adventures, always citing the consequences of sleep deprivation on the quality of one’s fur. He never thought she’d find something she valued more highly than that.

She laughed.

“Yes! I didn’t mean to. I didn’t realise the time _at all_ ,” she said, still grinning as though she had forgotten how to stop. “I can’t remember the last time I did anything like that! I know it’s silly to be so excited about something so new, but it’s the first time I’ve felt like myself in so long…”

She swallowed, touching her nose gently.

“Even before all of this, really,” she added softly. Something in Moomintroll’s chest twisted, and he promised himself he would be a better friend in future. Even if nothing else were to change, and this did not work at all, he would at least do that.

“That’s…really great, Snorkmaiden,” he said sincerely. “I’m happy for you.”

She smiled, not looking at him, then screwed the lid back on her flask. They fell silent, standing underneath the tree, the leaves still dripping rainwater around them.

“I am very sorry, about this whole mess, you know,” he began, because it seemed as good a place to start as any. Snorkmaiden leaned against the trunk of the tree, looking up at the sun starting to peep through the leaves. He looked away – he didn’t really want to look at Snufkin’s face while he did this. It wouldn’t be fair to Snorkmaiden. So he stared at the river and tried to imagine Snorkmaiden as she really was, as clearly as she could.

“And I don’t just mean…the past few days either!” he continued, taking in a shaking breath. “I’ve been ignoring you and promising things I can’t give you and it hasn’t been fair at all. I’m so sorry.”

They fell silent for a second, and Moomintroll braced for Snorkmaiden to shout at him or start crying, but it didn’t come. When she spoke, she sounded very calm, as though she was trying to reassure _him_.

“I know, Moomintroll,” she said, “I’ve never thought you were _intentionally_ trying to make me unhappy. I hope you understand I was never doing that either.”

“Of course you weren’t!” he said, surprised that she would even consider the idea. “It’s…well, we've been playing a children’s game for a long time, but neither of us wanted to admit it.”

She looked at him, but he continued staring at the river. The birds were beginning to sing, and insects were beginning to skim over the surface over the water. He continued picturing Snorkmaiden’s real face as clearly as he could, the way she’d smile or frown or laugh. He didn’t want to see Snufkin’s yet. Not until he’d said everything properly. She deserved the undivided attention right now, after all.

“I should have stood up for myself sooner. You gave me lots of opportunities to, I just…” he said, watching insects zipping over the surface of the water. “It was easier to just let other people decide what I wanted. Rather than admitting I wanted what I oughtn’t.”

“Oh, I know, Moomintroll,” she said. “You know, I don’t think I want what I should, either.”

“Oh?”

“I thought I wanted a husband and a house and children,” she said.

“I’m not the person who can give you that,” he said quickly, heart thumping. “I’m sorry, I know I acted like I was, I know I should have said sooner, but I _can’t_ and–“

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, silly,” she said with a laugh. “And, that’s what I’m saying, I’m not sure I _want_ that either. At least, not right now.”

“Well, at least we finally agree on _something_.”

As soon as he made the joke he felt it was a terrible mistake, but to his surprise she laughed, light and earnest.

“Quite!” she said. “It was fun, playing with you. But I’m ready to stop now. I think we both are.”

They settled into a strange silence. It felt rather like something more should be happening – like there should be thunder and lightning, tears and yelling, anger and hurt and all the horrible things he’d been bracing himself for. None of it came. The worst it felt was melancholy, and even that wasn’t too bad. It felt more like they’d spent a long day playing outside in the sun, and now they were finally ready to go home.

“Oh, Moomintroll, look at the river!” she said, gesturing towards the water. “Dragonflies! And after Snufkin was so sure there was none this summer.”

Moomintroll stared at them – there were so many, glimmering in greens and blues and bright golds, flickering between the flowers and across the water.

“You’re right. I wonder where they all came from…” he said.

Snorkmaiden stepped towards the water, flower petals from the tree above clinging to her shoulders and hair. She giggled, stretching out her paws to let a few dragonflies land on her, and stepped into the water. Moomintroll couldn’t see her face, but he suspected she was smiling.

“You know,” she said, lifting a paw with one little turquoise dragonfly resting on it. “I always thought I had to find insects horrid. Yet they’re really quite lovely, aren’t they?”

She lifted it up and let it fly off.

There was no flash of light, or music, or anything else to convey anything had changed. Yet it had, Moomintroll could tell. And he felt absurd, now, that he couldn’t tell before. It was so _obvious_ , even just looking at him from behind.

“Snufkin?” he asked.

Snufkin turned, expression astonished. He looked at his paws and then his arms and then his legs, and then touched his face and his hair, and finally he just settled on staring at Moomintroll, eyes wide.

“You did it,” Snufkin said in wonder, as though only to himself.

“Snufkin!” Moomintroll shouted, instantly running towards him. He quickly remembered how Snufkin did not like to be touched and admired too openly – and stopped just in front of him, arms still spread.

Snufkin lifted his head to look at him. For a moment, he just stood there, fists bunched up as though he were building up his courage for something. Quite suddenly, he launched himself at him, wrapping his arms around Moomintroll’s shoulders. Moomintroll stumbled back, only just managing to stop himself falling into the water, wrapping his arms around Snufkin to steady them both.

For a second they could only laugh, the sound light and nervous, and cling to each other. The dragonflies zipped around them and above their heads, glittering in the morning sun.

Finally, Moomintroll set Snufkin’s feet back on the ground. To his surprise, Snufkin didn't back away, but instead collapsed against his shoulder.

“Good grief,” Snufkin groaned, “why am I so _tired?_ ”

“Snorkmaiden stayed up all night writing,” he explained, laughing and wrapping his arms tight around him.

“I shall give her a piece of my mind for that.”

“No you won’t,” he said, and buried his snout in Snufkin’s shoulder. “Snufkin, I’m so, so sorry. I’ve been acting like an idiot.”

“Oh, we’re all idiots sometimes,” he said, leaning back to look at him, smile very wide. Moomintroll kept his grip tight, if only because his paws were shaking.

“No, no, listen, please. I just –“ he sighed and picked a stray flower petal from Snufkin’s hair. “I – I, oh dear. This is always much easier to do in your head...”

He took a breath, reminded himself there was no hurry, and no need to do everything perfectly. There was no judge and no audience - this was just for the two of them. That thought gave him the courage to continue.

“I think you’re really wonderful. So much so it frightened me. It made me act like an idiot and it hasn’t been fair to anyone. I’m sorry. But I don't want to be frightened any more.”

Snufkin looked stunned. Moomintroll wanted to stop, knew it would be easier to stop, but he felt if he did not say this aloud soon he would explode.

“And – and, er –“

When people did these kinds of things in books, they did not stutter, their mouths did not go dry, and they certainly never mentioned feeling like they were about to throw up from nerves. At the same time, Moomintroll was certain none of them ever felt as excited as he did, so it all evened out.

He breathed in, trying to draw a little more courage from wherever he could.

“And – and I know I cannot keep you in a jar and I cannot change who either of us are,” he said, voice steadying just a little. “And I know we cannot have each other the way heroes and heroines do in stories. I mean, honestly, I’m starting to wonder if _anyone_ can do that! But I’d like us to have each other in whatever way we can. If that’s okay with you.”

Snufkin stared at him, so wide-eyed and stunned that Moomintroll was momentarily certain he had made a terrible mistake. That he had perhaps misunderstood _everything_ up until this point and Snufkin would bolt from Moominvalley forever, frightened off.

Then something changed in Snufkin’s expression and he buried his face in Moomintroll’s shoulder, trembling all over.

“You’re a terribly silly, sentimental troll, sometimes,” he said. Moomintroll laughed, putting one paw on the back of Snufkin’s head.

“Am I really?” he said. “It’s funny, though. I swear my fur’s suddenly gotten a lot wetter down there.”

“And what an imagination you have!” he said. “You remember, though, that I’m not an easy person.”

Moomintroll knew what he was actually saying was: _Are you sure?_

“Nobody is,” Moomintroll replied with a shrug, although what he were actually saying was: _Yes, yes, of course, i couldn’t be more certain._

“You are.”

“I just almost drowned both of us.”

“…Point taken,” he said, and then leaned away, wiping his nose with his sleeve, eyes still shining. He sniffed. “I’m sorry. I’ve disgraced myself.”

“You have not!” Moomintroll said, putting his paws on his cheeks. “Honestly!”

“I have,” he said, laughing. “I was too busy crying to tell you that I think you’re wonderful too.”

Moomintroll fell silent as that, turning very red. Both stood for a second, grinning and trembling and crying all at the same time, looking incredibly silly indeed. Yet, funnily enough, neither really minded.

“Shall we walk?” Snufkin asked finally, a few dragonflies resting in his hair. “I believe we have a great deal to talk about.”

Moomintroll took his paw, very lightly at first, but then more firmly when Snufkin did not pull away.

“Yes. I’d love to.”

There was not enough hours in the day, nor a long enough walking route through Moominvalley, to talk about everything they wanted to. But they made a start.

****

Snorkmaiden watched the dragonfly float away into the air, and realised the yellow flowers above had disappeared, replaced with the clear blue of the morning sky. The trees and grass were gone, replaced by the tranquil sea and yellow sand.

She blinked, holding her paws in front of her. They were her own – really her own. She touched her long snout and her fringe and looked down at her big belly and oh, she was herself, she was well and truly herself!

She began to laugh, high and clear, and squeezed her arms around herself. Her fur flushed pink as a rose from tail-tip to the ends of ears, and she span on the spot, squeezing herself tight. Oh, she had missed herself so much! The dragonflies followed the trail of her tail, and she stumbled, quite dizzy, but unable to stop giggling.

“Oi, are you done?” called a voice. Snorkmaiden turned to see Little My standing behind her, arms folded and looking quite impertinent. Heedless of the risk of being bitten, Snorkmaiden scooped her up and span her as well.

“Augh! What are you doing!”

“Little My, it’s me! I’m Snorkmaiden again!” she said.

“I know that, I’ve got _eye_ s!” she said, struggling in her paws. “Now put me down before I vomit.”

Snorkmaiden did and squeezed herself tight again.

“You want a mirror?” Little My asked, hands on her hips. “You might want to see the state he’s left you in.”

Snorkmaiden shook her head.

“Oh, I don’t give a jot what I look like. I’m tired of _looking_ at myself,” she said. “I’m just excited to _be_ myself.”

“That so?” Little My replied, folding her arms and looking almost approving. “Hm…in that case, I’ve got something for you.”

“ _You_ do?” she asked, finally finished spinning (she was getting rather dizzy, after all).

Little My didn’t reply, she just put two fingers to her mouth and whistled. A few dragonflies descended from above, carrying something between them. They dropped it, and Little My leapt up and caught it with one deft paw. It was a lot of pieces of paper, of different sizes and colours, bound together with thread and tape. There was a dragonfly drawn roughly on the cover, in shiny green paint.

“I finished my book,” she said grandly. “Now I’m not one to toot my own horn, but it’s basically genius.”

Snorkmaiden looked at it for a second.

“Was this the one you made by destroying my belongings?”

“Yup!”

It was such a brazen answer than Snorkmaiden could only laugh.

“It’s unnamed right now, but who cares. I’m kinda done with it at this point,” Little My said carelessly. “I figured you might as well take it.”

She smiled at her, genuinely touched. Little My had a funny way of showing she cared, but Snorkmaiden rather thought she was getting the hang of it.

“Thank you, Little My.”

“Yeah, yeah. Maybe it’ll get all that prince and princess nonsense out of your head,” she said with a snort. Snorkmaiden grinned at her.

“I think a lot of that’s gone already,” she said. Little My looked up at her, for a second looking as though she’d rather like to say something else, but then Moominmamma bustled past. She was carrying a trestle table under her arm. She caught sight of Snorkmaiden nd then turned, smiling enormously.

“Good morning, Snorkmaiden,” she said. “That’s a lovely colour on you.”

Snorkmaiden beamed back at her, and then bounded forward for a hug. Moominmamma hugged her back with her free arm. With a final squeeze, Snorkmaiden released her and then glanced down to admire her lovely pink fur again.

“It is nice,” she said, stretching out her paws and admiring the curve of her belly and her long tail. “I don’t think I’ll settle on one colour for a while though.”

“That’s very wise of you, dear,” Moominmamma said, pulling the table open and setting it down on the sand. “I suspected there would be need for a party tonight. Would you be kind enough to help us set up?”

“Yes, we thought a summer bonfire might be in order!” Moominpappa said from behind her, pushing forward a wheelbarrow full of scrap paper.

“We’re gonna burn your old books!” Little My informed her cheerfully, dragonflies perched all across her shoulders and arms

“Um, sorry Mamma, but may I go home for a couple of hours?” she said, “I’d like to finish the scene I was writing.”

Moominmamma laughed and kissed the top of her head.

“Of course, dear. Just be done by dinner.”

“Thank you, Mamma!” she said, kissing her quickly on the cheek. Before she could run off, Moominpappa caught her arm.

“Snorkmaiden, a moment!”

“Yes?” she said, curious.

“Congratulations on getting back to yourself, first of all. Second of all – could you bring back a stack of manuscripts I have bundled together on my desk?” he asked, leaning towards her conspiratorially. “Old drafts, you see, that I believe need thorough revisions. With Mamma’s input, this time. For now, I think they would make fine kindling.”

She blinked.

“Are you sure?”

“Completely! Out with the old and in with the new, I say!” he said, dragonflies landing on top of his hat. “It’s a splendid day for that sort of thing!”

“You’re right,” she said, nodding firmly. “It’s just the right time.”

“Right, off you go then! Best of luck with your work,” he said.

Still smiling, Snorkmaiden ran back to Moominhouse, dragonflies glittering in her wake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo, we're in the home stretch! The last chapter will probably be up tomorrow morning my time (so, like, Saturday afternoon/evening for most of you guys, I suspect). Thank you for reading and commenting so far, I really appreciate it.


	11. In which we say farewell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long one, and an extremely important cameo.

It was several hours before Snorkmaiden returned to the beach. She had filled a notebook in that time, with plans and notes and scenes and dialogue and all she wanted was to keep going. However, a promise to Moominmamma was one no person with a heart was capable of breaking, so she washed quickly, ran a comb through her fringe, and returned to the beach.

Moominmamma had already laid out a feast and put a few bottles of wine and mead in the ice box for guests. Snorkmaiden supposed that word had already spread throughout the valley, as it tended to. Sniff was already here, sneaking cupcakes, and a hemulen family were discussing with Moominmamma where to put the crate of beer they’d brought. Mrs Fillyjonk was busying herself with rearranging the snack table (it were not neat enough for her taste), while Misabel trailed after her, carrying whatever was thrust into her hands.

“Good to see you, Snorkmaiden,” Moominpappa greeted her, from where he was shovelling novel pages into the bonfire. “The manuscript coming along well?”

She nodded. Well, she was not that sure, but there was definitely more of it than there had been this morning. And that was the important thing, really.

“You can take one of my old typewriters, if you’d like,” he said, standing up straight and wiping the sweat from his brow. “Bit better for getting everything neat and tidy.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. A typewriter was an expensive thing, and she’d never learned to type before. It would take her a long time to get the knack of it.

“Of course, supporting new talent and all that!” he cried, waving a paw in the air.

“Thank you,” she said, and then glanced about. “Have Snufkin and Moomintroll turned up yet?”

Moominpappa huffed out another laugh, shovelling more pages into the fire.

“Er. I rather think they’ll be rather preoccupied for a while yet,” he said, and shook his head. “I really misinterpreted the whole situation, didn’t I? As I said, I’m a rather out-of-touch old moomin. Sometimes my ways of thinking can be terribly old-fashioned.”

“Don’t worry. You weren’t the only one getting it wrong,” she said, and then sighed. He paused, glancing about as though looking for help, but Moominmamma was deep in conversation with Mrs Fillyjonk. After a moment, he decided to take a shot at it himself.

“And you’re, ah, you’re doing alright, are you?” he asked. “I know this is much more a topic for Mamma, than for me, but…well, if you’d like to talk…”

He trailed off helplessly.

Was she doing alright, she wondered.

She supposed she should not be okay at all. By every account she had, she should be crying and eating ice cream and talking about how horrible men were. While she had no doubt there were times and places for that kind of thing, that wasn’t what she felt like doing at all. She didn’t even feel heartbroken, as beastly it was to admit.

Instead, she rather felt like she’d been wearing a dress that didn’t fit all day. Oh, it had been pretty, and she had been taken enough with it to force it on at first. Yet when one does such a thing, it eventually begins to chafe and pinch and there is only unimaginable relief in taking it off.

She picked up a pawful of novel scraps and tossed them into the flames.

“I’m really alright,” she said. “I’m just thinking about what to do now.”

She didn’t need to be anyone’s girlfriend any more, after all. She supposed she could always be _someone else’s_ girlfriend. Yet even if there were any other options in Moominvalley, would that be any good? Oh yes, it would be lovely to have a real romance someday, but just _being a girlfriend_ wasn’t the same as that, and the latter was rather tedious without the former. She’d rather not even bother.

Huffing, she stared into the flames. Pappa looked at her a second.

“Well, best way to figure out what to do next is look at what you’re already doing!” he said, nodding sagely to himself. “So what is that?”

She considered it. The answer suddenly seemed very simple.

“Well…I think I’m writing a play.”

“A play! Capital!” Moominpappa said, clapping his paws together. “Splendid artform, theatre. I’ve always said as much.”

“…We didn’t know what a theatre was until recently,” Snorkmaiden said, giggling.

“I’ve always said as much _recently_.”

She smiled at that and then, because she had something important to say, cleared her throat.

“Well, I think…what I should do next is do some research for it,” she said. The next idea was perhaps a little more frightening, but she followed it anyway. “In the field. And…well, a play needs a theatre to host it, doesn’t it?”

“So it does,” he replied, nodding. “Adventure really is the best inspiration for writing. I think it’s an excellent idea.”

“Really? And…well, you’re not upset?”

“Why would I be?” he asked, blinking. “We don’t expect you to live in Moominvalley forever! It would be a terrible waste if you did.”

He gave her a pat on the shoulder.

“That said, you’ll have a room here as long as you want one,” he said. “Mamma and I think very highly of you, you know.”

Snorkmaiden didn’t quite trust herself to reply to that one. Pappa looked away and pretended not to notice as she wiped her eyes a little. They tossed more scraps onto the fire until it was burning merrily. For the rest of the lazy afternoon, they all sat around it, drinking wine, cold from the ice box, and grazing on Mamma’s incredible snacks.

As night began to fall, Too-Ticky arrived, a jar under her arm, accompanied by a red-headed girl in a bow, carrying a net over her shoulder.

“Ninny! Good to see you, lass!” Pappa greeted them. Ninny stuck out her tongue in greeting, and then snatched the jar from Too-Ticky’s hands, hoisting it above her head.

“Look what we caught!” she sing-songed. Inside the jar, the little fairy sat with her arms folded, looking greatly irritated.

“I’m a who, not a what!” she protested.

“Ah, is that the little creature who caused all this fuss?” Moominpappa asked, leaning closer to peer at her. The fairy made a rude hand gesture.

“Aye, that she is,” Too-Ticky said, taking the jar back gently. “I’ll be taking her home after I’ve sorted my own affairs.”

The fairy stood and walked towards the glass, looking up at Snorkmaiden with interest.

“Ooh, nice to see you back to normal,” she said, sounding genuinely pleased. “I was starting to think it would _never_ happen.”

“Well, no thanks to _you_ ,” she said, prodding the glass and glowering at the little creature inside. The fairy shrugged, lying with her paws behind her head.

“I told you. I can’t fix problems, I only make them,” she said, kicking her legs. “And I’m jolly good at it, you know!”

“That’s a dreadful thing to be proud of!” Snorkmaiden said.

“Oh, you’ll come to understand it well enough,” she said with a chuckle, spinning her pen above her head. “And hey, look who’s made it!”

They turned to see Moomintroll and Snufkin walking nearby, paws clasped between them, chuckling about something. They didn’t seem to notice the festivities they were walking towards.

“Oh, splendid!” Mamma said. “The party will be much more fun with them here.”

“Oh good grief, they haven’t even noticed us,” Little My said, retching. “Hey! You two!”

They paused, both startled. For a second, Snorkmaiden thought the two of them would just turn and leave, but then Snufkin muttered something to Moomintroll that made him laugh, and they approached, paws still together.

“Evening,” Snufkin said, his casual attitude quite betrayed by the grin splashed on his face.

“Good evening, dear,” Moominmamma greeted him. “Lovely to see you looking like yourself.”

“Almost. No luck finding my hat, I’m afraid,” he said, rubbing a paw through his hair.

“A shame, but these things happen. If it’s any consolation, you look very handsome without it,” she replied, and then glanced at her son, who was staring at Snufkin in a remarkably soppy manner. “I dare say certain parties agree.”

“Mamma!” Moomintroll whined, turning red.

“Oh, do you not agree?” Snufkin asked, grinning.

“No – I, yes, but – that’s – _we quite talked about this!_ “

“Don’t tease him, dear. He’ll steal a boat again,” Mamma said, giggling quite helplessly.

“Mamma!”

“Ha, don’t worry,” Little My piped up. “I’m sure Snufkin will be right there to drown himself. That’ll help.”

Both boys buried their faces in their paws, groaning.

“Is this going to go on all night?” Snufkin asked. Moominpappa patted him on the shoulder.

“I’m afraid when one does something that stupid, your family does not let you live it down for a long, long while,” he said gravely.

“Well…there were probably better ways to resolve everything,” Snufkin said, glancing at Moomintroll. “But it was worth it in the end.”

Moomintroll looked as though he were about to melt into a pile of goo.

“Urgh, no, don’t _start_!” Little My shouted. “I refuse to listen to any mushy nonsense. I want to _dance_.”

She pulled Snufkin’s mouth-organ out of her pocket and tossed it at him, hitting him square in the face (and earning identical ‘My!’s from both Mamma and Moomintroll).

“Play a tune already, you soppy old tramp,” Little My snapped.

Ignoring the large red mark on his forehead, Snufkin took the mouth-organ in his paws and blew a short note. It came out perfectly.

“Ah,” he said, smiling at it. “Well, I suppose I can play a short piece or two.”

“Ooh, ooh, I’ve been learning the fiddle!” Ninny piped up, leaning on Little My’s head and hopping on the spot.

“I’ve got my accordion with me, if you kids wouldn’t mind a further collaborator,” Too-Ticky added, giving Snufkin a sidelong glance. He looked startled by the offer for a second, but then nodded, smiling.

“Yes, I think that would be lovely.”

****

It was a splendid party, as Moomin parties always are. The bonfire crackled and roared all night, fed by the occasional handful of old writing. The little creeps and niblings who lived nearby came to join in the fun, as did a few of the whompers from the village. Before long, the beach was lively with music and drinking and dancing.

Little My danced furiously, as though she quite intended to knock everyone else out in the process, but she was so small she did little more than leave people with a few bruises. Misabel and Mrs Fillyjonk, to everyone but Mamma and Moomintroll’s immense surprise, danced together all night. Misabel seemed to stand on Fillyjonk’s feet more than the actual ground, and Fillyjonk had to bend in half just so they could touch noses. Neither seemed to mind.

By the snack table, Pappa rehearsed some truly dreadful poetry. The niblings threw things and the poor creeps were reduced to burying themselves in the sand to try to escape it, but Mamma was breathless and tearful with laughter. As Pappa brushed the last of the tomatoes from his fur, she wiped her eyes and dragged her silly husband up to dance.

Even the Passer-by was released from her jar to flutter above and enjoy a drink. The Moomin family were not the type to hold grudges, after all.

Amid all this, Moomintroll spotted Snorkmaiden sitting on the sand, enjoying a drink and watching the sea. He glanced at Snufkin, twitching his ears in a question, but Snufkin only smiled and tilted his head. Realising permission was quite unnecessary, Moomintroll went over to her.

“Would you like to dance?” he asked. She looked at him.

“Are you sure about that?” she said, tilting her head at his offered paw.

“Of course! Friends dance, don’t they?” he said. “And if we cannot be friends I don't know what I'll do.”

She laughed at this and took his paw. The next tune was jolly, mostly led by Ninny’s remarkably aggressive fiddle-playing. They danced together, and it was not as terribly awkward as it could be. Soon, the song came to an end. Dropping one another’s paws, they went to the snack table, feeling oddly at peace.

“Moomintroll?” Snorkmaiden said.

“Yes?”

“Thank you terribly for being honest with me today,” she said, and then tilted her head. “So, can I be honest in return?”

“Uuuuh, yes?” he said, suddenly quite nervous.

“You two really are quite sweet,” she said, tilting her head towards Snufkin.

“Oh!” he said, feeling his face go hot again (it had happened a lot that day). “Ah! Erm! Thank you?”

She laughed.

“I say that, because I don’t want you to misunderstand what I’m going to do,” she said. “You see. I think I will leave Moominvalley soon.”

Moomintroll spilled wine on the table, eyes going wide.

“Oh! No, no, I mean, you don’t have to,” he spluttered, clutching the bottle to his chest. “I –“

“It’s not a _have_ to, Moomintroll,” she said, taking the bottle from him and pouring him a drink. “It’s that I want to! I’m ready to, I think.”

“Are you going alone?” he asked. She nodded.

“Yes. I think I’m ready for that too,” she said. “I’ve always been lonely, but I’ve never been alone. I think I need to be the latter to solve the former. If that makes any sense.”

“It does,” Moomintroll said. “I think some people are the opposite way around, too.”

“Oh, he is,” she said, and Moomintroll was again embarrassed at how terrible un-subtle he was. Snorkmaiden only smiled at him, nudging him in the side. “Although he seems happy today.”

Moomintroll blushed again at that. He thought so, but he rather didn’t want to assume. While they had talked all day, long enough to turn their throats scratchy, about many different things and feelings and ideas, there was still a great deal that remained uncertain. It was frightening and strange and incredibly exciting, all at once. Moomintroll had always been averse to more complicated feelings, but he found himself quite treasuring this one.

He looked back towards the musicians. Ninny was excitably showing Snufkin her fiddle, and he was admiring it with sincere interest. Perhaps he’d like one of his own. Moomintroll wondered where he’d find such a thing…

“Oh for the Groke’s sake!” Snorkmaiden burst out.

Moomintroll jumped.

“What?” he said.

“Just go ask him to dance and stop _mooning_ at him! I mean _really_ ,” she said, shaking her head and taking a sip of wine. “You’re sweet but you’re both very annoying.”

“Iiiis that as a couple or individually?” Moomintroll asked, trying not to glance back at him again and finding it embarrassingly difficult.

“Both,” she said, and then gestured him away. “Now shoo.”

As much as he’d love to, he hesitated, wondering if she was just putting up a front again. Perhaps despite all this, she was truly upset. Yet her fur was a lovely pale green, like dandelion shoots, and her eyes were bright, as though she were thinking up a joke to tell later.

“You’re fantastic,” he said, because it was true.

“Oh, I know,” she replied. “Now go!”

With a wave, he rushed over to where Snufkin stood. Upon being asked, he looked uncertain for a second, but then Ninny all but threw him into Moomintroll’s paws. With a laugh, he yielded, following Moomintroll out onto the sand.

It was not like they had never danced together before – they had known each other for a long while, after all – but Moomintroll couldn’t help but think it felt entirely different now.

****

Snufkin wasn’t one to dance – at parties he preferred to either play the music or sit aside and quietly observe – but the day had been one of change and new things, so why not add more to the list. Eventually, however, both his and Moomintroll’s feet were sore, and Little My wanted Moomintroll to help her with something.

So Snufkin, weary but still feeling very uncharacteristically silly, went off to fetch himself a drink. He found Snorkmaiden waiting for him, a little sweaty from the dancing she’d been doing with Little My and Ninny.

“Having fun?” she asked, amused.

“Yes,” he said, probably too quickly, and then he hesitated. “Uh. And you’re…well. You’re okay, aren’t you? We’re not being, ah, tactless?”

It had only occurred to him after the fact that being so obvious with Moomintroll probably wasn’t best manners, considering the circumstances, but he’d not been thinking with his head all day.

To his surprise, she burst out laughing.

“Oh, you’re both being terrible! No tact at all, honestly!” she said, and then smiled at him. “But I’m honestly fine.”

Snufkin sipped at his beer.

“And…you’re not upset with me?” he asked quietly. It was something he wouldn’t dare ask if he was completely sober, but one couldn’t help but be concerned.

“Not at all,” she said, so confidently that Snufkin found it easy to believe. “In fact, I wanted to ask if you’d come on a short adventure with me.”

“An adventure? Well, certainly, but…now?” he asked. She nodded.

“You’ll enjoy it,” she assured him, eyes twinkling and fur glimmering soft green. He raised his eyebrows at her.

“Consider my curiosity piqued. What is it?”

“Well, if it it’s not too much trouble, I’d like you to help me steal a boat.”

****

Snufkin quickly told Moomintroll he were nipping away for a second, while Snorkmaiden zipped back to Moominhouse to collect her things. Moomintroll only nodded and, after checking the coast was clear, gave him a quick nuzzle on the cheek. He had, however, failed to account for the creeps buried in the sand nearby, who all leapt out with a chorus of ‘Oooooooh!’, prompting them both to turn red and bolt.

Having escaped one of the more gossipy creeps, Snufkin met up with Snorkmaiden along the beach and they made their way to the docks, low and watchful for any police. The docks were quiet, most of the locals being at the party further south along the shore, or in bed, depending on their temperament. Yet one always had to be careful when committing felonies - particularly when the blame could fall on poor Mamma and Pappa if it went wrong.

“There, the one Moomintroll tried to steal the other day,” Snorkmaiden whispered to him, pointing at the cherry wood boat all moored up at the dock. It looked like the Hemulen had increased security, chaining it up and putting up a great deal of ‘No trespassers’ and ‘Private property’ signs. Even one horrible one that said ‘KEEP OUT OF THE SEA’ in big letters. Snufkin was determined they would become part of the bonfire before the end of the night.

“Good choice,” he growled. “Nobody who owns things just for the sake of owning them deserves to have them.”

“You know, I think I’m coming to agree with you,” Snorkmaiden whispered. “Alright, old night eyes, anybody about?”

Snufkin glanced about – the beach and docks looked clear. There were a light or two on in the village, but he doubted anyone would spot them at this hour.

“Nobody. The old villain must be in bed,” he said. Snorkmaiden giggled.

“Well, even if he catches us, you can just bat your eyelashes at him again.”

“I will not.”

“Oh, come on, isn’t it a _little_ flattering it worked last time?”

“It is not.”

Snorkmaiden muffled her laughter in her paws and Snufkin shushed her, biting his lip to stiop laughing himself. In retrospect, it _was_ quite funny. Shushing each other, they clambered up from the sand onto the docks.

The poor little boat had been horribly chained down, covered with tarp, and besieged with signs from every direction. All this for a ship the hemulen didn’t even sail!

He quickly found the lock, digging a pick out of his coat, and set to work fiddling it free. Snorkmaiden tore off the tarp, bundling it into a ball and tossing it on deck. She untied the sail and brought it down. Snufkin picked the first lock free, and then the second, but then couldn’t get the last. She looked over at him.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“This one is tricky,” he muttered. “It’s been a while since I’ve used this particular skillset, truth be told. I don’t get in as much trouble as I used to.”

Snorkmaiden shook her head, clambering onto the dock next to him. She had set up the type-writer under the tarp, as make-shift shelter, and stored away her supplies, and set up the sail. All that was left was to break the last chain, and the thought was making Snufkin a bit nervous.

Another lockpick snapped in his paws.

“Fuh - fiddlesticks,” Snufkin muttered. Snorkmaiden started giggling.

“You’re drunk,” she said.

“Of course I’m not. I’ve only had one beer,” he replied.

“Yes,” she said smugly, “and now you’re tipsy.”

He glowered at her, but she only started giggling more at that. With a sigh, he pulled out another lockpick from his sleeve and struggled with the lock again. It was already difficult, but quite Snorkmaiden giggling away it moved into being quite impossible

He made another effort and missing the keyhole entirely. The pick struck the side of the lock and shout out of his paws, landing in the water. Snorkmaiden was reduced to snorting.

“Oh, alright, so maybe I’m a bit drunk,” he admitted, laughing a bit at himself.

“Give it here,” she said, offering her paws. Snufkin shrugged and passed it over. Snorkmaiden looked at it carefully, turning it over and making thoughtful noises. Snufkin occasionally forgot that her brother was an engineer – she surely picked up a few things herself. He looked forward to seeing what clever trick she had prepared.

She snapped the chain in two with her paws.

“Well. That works too,” Snufkin said mildly. She bundled up the chains, and only Snufkin’s reproachful look stopped her dumping them into the sea (as if the poor sea needed anyone else dumping their garbage into her!).

“Right, there we go,” she said.

“There we go,” he agreed.

They stood for a second, staring at the little boat, bobbing innocuously on the gentle waves.

“Are you sure you’re ready to leave tonight?” he asked, suddenly nervous for her. She had not travelled in quite some time, after all. “It’s quite fast.”

“I am,” she replied. “I know it’s sudden, but I feel like if I don’t leave tonight, I’ll lose my nerve.”

Snufkin nodded – he knew the feeling well. Moominvalley was a comfortable place, and comfortable places were difficult to leave, even when one needed to. She looked at him, smiling.

“Besides! It’s a day for new things, don’t you think?” she said. “I’m going to find Emma’s theatre. Put on my play. And have some adventures on the way, hopefully.”

“That’s a splendid idea,” he replied. “Do write when the play opens. You’ll send us tickets, won’t you? Moomintroll would love to see it too.”

“Front row seats!” she promised, and the smirked. “Or…well, I can tell security to turn a blind eye to you sneaking in, if tickets are too _bourgeoise_ for your tastes.”

“I’m so glad you feel comfortable enough to make fun of me now,” he said drily.

“Oh, so am I,” she said, so earnestly Snufkin had to look at the floor for a second.

She opened her arms for a hug, tilting her head at him.

They’d never done that before, not once, but it was a night for new things.

“Take care,” she said, and squeezed him. “Don’t let Moomintroll go too lonely this winter.”

“I won’t.”

“And remember he’s not the _only_ person in the valley, hm?”

“I know.”

She released him, grinning and shaking with such nerves and excitement.

“And tell me if he’s an idiot to you again,” she said. “I’ll give him a thump.”

“ _Please_ don’t do that,” he said, horrified. Snorkmaiden laughed at his expression, stepping onto the ship. 

"You remember how to navigate by the stars, don't you? And what fish are safe to eat?" Snufkin asked. "And be careful on the sea. Snorks can’t swim, remember?”

“Pfft, what are you, my dad? I’m sure I can manage,” she said, and then grinned. “And don't worry about that. I won’t be throwing myself in as some grand romantic gesture any time soon.”

Snufkin sighed.

“Is everyone going to –“

“Ey! You kids get away from my boat!” called a voice. The hemulen from the other day stormed towards them, lantern in hand.

“Bye!” Snorkmaiden shouted, casting off and pushing the oars into the ocean with great force. Snufkin dropped from the deck and ran across the sand. The hemulen stood on the docks, shouting oaths across the sea, but the two vagabonds were laughing too hard to hear him.

****

For the rest of the season, life rather continued as ever. Pappa wrote his memoirs, Mamma cooked and fussed. Sniff came up with unlikely money-making schemes. Little My caused chaos wherever she went. Snufkin played his mouth-organ and fished. The two of them spent as much time together as ever, but with nothing to hide and no great pretence to keep up, it was like they could both finally relax. Snufkin entered Moominhouse more often. Moomintroll had lunch in Snufkin's tent on occasion. Both of them attempted to figure out how mumriks and moomins kissed (the answer: with great effort).

Mamma was clearly delighted to have Snufkin around more often, to point where Moomintroll was beginning to seriously question who the favourite in the family really was. Pappa was attempting to be bipartisan to an almost irritating extent, refusing to let them shut the bedroom door (“Same rules apply as they did with Snorkmaiden, son!”) and asking after Snufkin frequently enough to be embarrassing. It was incredibly clumsy, but nice in its own way.

Of course, little My gagged at them if they as much held hands around her, but Moomintroll privately thought she quite liked having something to complain about.

They went on adventures as they always had. Although, without Snorkmaiden, it was much harder to charm their way out of trouble.

Everyone talked about Snorkmaiden a great deal. They discussed how she was doing, whether she had found Emma yet, speculated when they would get tickets to her play. Nobody doubted that it would be made, or that it would be a big hit – it was simply a question of when. Moomintroll didn’t miss her, exactly, not how he would miss Snufkin over winter, but he looked forward to seeing her again. It was a wonderfully simple feeling, and he enjoyed it.

Before long, the leaves began to turn crisp and golden, and the valley was blessed with a crisp autumn breeze. Snufkin’s hat still hadn’t returned. It perhaps never would. Moomintroll made him flower crowns to make up for it. The latest was dahlia – they had blooming in whites and blues and greens all across the valley, and Moomintroll thought they suited him beautifully.

It had been a wonderful summer, even when it was strange and frightening. He were a little sad to see it end, but autumn would undoubtedly be strange and frightening and wonderful too. On one of those last summer days, Sniff and Little My had went off on some hare-brained scheme together, so they finally had the day to themselves.

In the morning, they tried sailing their barkboats for the first time. Snufkin had been teaching Moomintroll to carve them, and in return Moomintroll had been showing him how to paint them. Moomintroll’s bark boat could only float upside down, and Snufkin’s paint turned snot-green the second it touched water. It was no matter – it was good fun all the same, and they would have every summer after this one to improve.

After catching and smoking some fish for lunch, Snufkin played a new song for Moomintroll on his fiddle.

“You’re getting very good,” Moomintroll said, as Snufkin finished the piece. He smiled at him.

“You’ve very kind to say so,” he said, taking the fiddle form his shoulder. “But I’m afraid Ninny still teases me.”

“She teases everyone,” Moomintroll replied, laughing. “She doesn't mean it. I say that by the time winter comes around, you’ll be a virtuoso.”

Snufkin tensed, as he always did when winter was mentioned.

“Hm, yes, winter...”

He trailed off.

“What is it, Snuf?” he asked. Snufkin sat down and took Moomintroll’s tail into his paws, combing the fur out with his fingers gently.

“So...winter. You realise I will still be leaving, yes?” Snufkin said, not looking at him.

“Of course I do!” Moomintroll said, startled into sitting up, “You need to be alone, and you need to travel and recharge, I understand that!”

“But it makes you so sad.“

“Yes, but I still _understand_ it. That hasn’t changed,” Moomintroll said. “You’re silly.”

“Slander,” he said, putting a paw to his chest in mock offense. “I’m a very serious vagabond, I’ll have you know.”

“No, you’re a very silly snufkin who is too sweet for his own good. And gets more worried than he needs to,” he said, reaching over to take his paw. He lay back down, tugging on Snufkin to come join him. They lay in the grass for few lazy moments, Snufkin resting his fiddle on his stomach and idly plucking the strings with his fingers.

Moomintroll just watched the clouds above, waiting for whatever else it was Snufkin wanted to say. It was clear he was still thinking, and if Moomintroll got impatient he wouldn’t say it at all. After a long while, Snufkin finally spoke again.

“I just worry this winter will feel different, that’s all,” he said quietly. Moomintroll hummed, thinking about this.

“It probably will,” he said, squeezing Snufkin’s paw. “I’m nervous about it too. I miss you so terribly anyway, I can’t imagine how badly I’ll miss you now.”

“Oh dear…” he replied. “Well, as long as you don’t run off and steal a boat about it, I suppose…”

“Oh, we’re doing these jokes to _each other_ now?” Moomintroll said, laughing. Snufkin grinned at him, and Moomintroll swatted him in the side with his tail.

“I just think that…we won’t know what winter will feel like until it happens,” Moomintroll continued carefully. “So, let’s just try it. If anything needs to change, we can talk about it in spring.”

Moomintroll quietly liked to think one day they could leave for winter together. One day, but not right now. He was not quite ready, and he suspected Snufkin wasn’t either. There was no hurry, though. They had all the time in the world, after all.

Snufkin thought for a while. Finally, he chuckled and turned onto his side to look at him, tucking his free paw under his cheek. It was an ordinary enough gesture, but it made Moomintroll’s heart do a funny little hop all the same.

“You’re right, of course. Thank you,” Snufkin said. “When did you get so mature?”

Moomintroll’s ears twitched with amusement.

“I’m still an idiot, I promise.”

Snufkin laughed quietly, squeezing his paw and cuddling a bit closer.

“Now I don’t know about that –“

“Hey! Love birds!”

Little My charged towards them, covered from her ponytail to her dress in blue paint. She looked rather like an overdipped paintbrush.

Moomintroll sat up with a long-suffering sigh. Snufkin didn’t even do that much – he just lay with his eyes squeezed closed, looking as if he were trying to will Little My away with his thoughts alone.

“What is it, My?” Moomintroll grumbled. “We’re busy.”

“No you’re not. You’re just being gross, as usual.”

“And we’d like to go back to it, if you don’t mind,” Snufkin said. Moomintroll smothered a laugh with his paw.

“Oh, you won’t. Not after I share my news!”

Snufkin cracked open an eye.

“Well, go on then.”

“Sniff’s been arrested,” she said, clearly delighted with this turn of events. “Wanna help break him out?”

They glanced at one another.

Well, who were they to say no to that?

They followed her, listening as she regaled them with the afternoon’s activities, discussing possibly strategies.

And so, life in the valley went on as it always had. But for a held paw or two.

****

Snorkmaiden was an expert at gutting fish now. The first time she had tried it – after long hours of failing to catch anything – she had butchered the little fish beyond repair. She had been forced to dive into her supplies, devouring the last of the food from Moominvalley.

Now, she could catch a fish, kill it, gut it, fry it, in the same time it would take the normal person to fry an egg. The ringmaster at a travelling circus she’d encountered had taught her how, as well as how to walk across a tightrope with ease. A sailor she’d met – another snork like herself – had equipped her with her life-vest, quite horrified to see her out on the sea without one. She’d even had a run-in with some pirates. They were nowhere near as attractive as she’d envisioned. However, one did have a little daughter who took quite a shine to her and taught her how to use a cutlass properly in exchange for haircare tips. She’s also escaped a weeping booble, shooed an oddly familiar joxter out of her crow’s nest, and cared for a lost mermaid child for the few days it took his parents to find him.

It was amazing, really, how much she was capable of. She’d barely even known she was so formidable!

Yet as with all adventures, not every moment was a happy one. There had been frightening times and frustrating times and sometimes she’d made mistakes and cried and bitterly wished she had never left. And then other times she’d been so swept up with all the world had to offer, she only wished she had left sooner. It had been wonderful and strange and frightening and she’d never had a more fantastic summer.

Between those days of adventure, she’d had solitary days like this. Out in the vast sea, cooking a fish under the open air, alone and in silence. These days were not boring in the least - these were her writing days, and she treasured each one.

She wrote a fantastic amount. Her first play, the one about pirates, had turned out to not be much of anything. She turned it into kindling. Her second attempt – a novel about a disgraced duchess – was better, but also not anything she was terribly excited about. She gave to a little creep who was just delighted to have anything to read.

Her third, however. Well, she was excited to see her third on the stage. She wouldn’t let herself think of it any further than that, however. That would happen when she had a set and actors and she could see it all laid out. For now, she focused on her fourth, which was coming along very nicely indeed.

She finished her fish, along with the vegetables and seaweed, and put her plate and fork in a bucket to be washed later.

Her fourth work was calling to her, and she was eager to answer it.

She stepped under the tarp where she kept her desk (nailed securely to the deck), and her typewriter. Across the desk were little trinkets from her fellow travellers – nothing grand, little seashells and letters and stones, a cheap bracelet and a little handmade necklace, a little origami squid.

She glanced her reflection in a piece of seaglass. She did not look pretty today. But that was fine. For today, she did not want or need to be pretty. There would be time for that later, at opening nights and awards parties and all the other glamorous things in her future. Today, she wanted to work.

Setting a fresh sheet of paper in her type-writer, she checked where she had gotten to last time. Ah, yes, the little princeling had made his escape and the bandit queen was at her wit’s end.

A wonderful place to begin again.

So she sat, writing away as her little cherry wood boat bobbed on the water. Quite without her noticing, it turned dark around her, leaving her the only source of light – a golden snork, floating happily alone on top of the sea.

****

“I don’t see why you kept me in Moominvalley for the rest of the season,” the fairy said from Too-Ticky’s shoulder, resting her cheek on her paws. Too-Ticky’s boots crunched against the autumn leaves already underfoot, and she chuckled, not sparing a glance at the little fairy.

“Well, I knew if you didn’t see an epilogue, you would zip right back and cause more mischief,” Too-Ticky replied.

“I caused no mischief at all,” the fairy said, zipping off her shoulder to hover in front of Too-Ticky’s face. “I was a great source of help.”

“Was nae your business to begin with,” Too-Ticky said.

The fairy laughed, rolling onto her back and kicking her legs, paws behind her head.

“Oh please. You didn’t leave them alone either,” she said. Too-Ticky hummed.

“Advice isn’t the same as cursing people just to teach some poor kiddo a lesson,” she said. The fairy tutted at this – yes, yes, she _supposed_ , but that was just a silly little technicality. And besides, her methods were _much_ more entertaining.

“Well, it all worked out well, didn’t it?” the fairy replied, waving a paw in the air. “Happily ever after, the end, you’re all _very_ welcome!”

Despite the fairy’s self-assured tone, Too-Ticky didn’t look convinced.

“Hm.”

“Oh don’t ‘hm’ like that.”

“Ah, just mean, everyone’s doing well now, but all things –“

“All things are so very uncertain,” the fairy interrupted in a mocking tone, floating upside down, her tail lashing back and forth, “Oh, you and you uncertainty. It’s no fun at all, you know.”

“Is it not?” Too-Ticky asked.

“Of course it’s not! Readers want ‘and they all live happily ever after’,” the fairy said with a tut. “Not ‘well, it was all very nice, but who knows what the future would bring’. In fact, they can get rather _irritated_ if you try to give them the latter. Not everyone is as dour as you.”

“I want the happy endings too,” she replied with a shrug. “Even the dourest folk do, on some level.”

“But your uncertainty,” the fairy said.

“Aye,” she said. “As I said, all things are uncertain.”

“Hmph, well, yes. But with all things being so very uncertain, surely it’s _also_ possible that everything can be well, in the end?” the fairy said, landing back on Too-Ticky’s shoulder. “That’s what is so reassuring, right?”

Too-Ticky smiled.

“I suppose so.”

“And that’s the whole point, you know!” the fairy continued, feeling quite passionate about the whole thing now. “A story doesn’t give answers or rules, and it shouldn’t! What they _should_ do is remind you of what's possible - that things _can_ be well!”

Too-Ticky shoved her hands in her pockets, and looked up at the autumn leaves falling around them.

“Aye, well, that’s not a bad way to deal with uncertainty, I suppose.”

The fairy snorted and leaned her back against Too-Ticky’s ear, closing her eyes.

Of course it wasn’t. Dealing with uncertainty was what all story-telling was for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand that's a wrap! Thank you very much for reading. Be gay, do crime, respect women.
> 
> I'm [@clefairytea](http://clefairytea.tumblr.com) on Tumblr.
> 
> Ok love you bye.


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